Between Mind and Heart
by Cyndi
Summary: Their love wasn't disappearing...it merely changed. .o OptimusxMikaela, takes place after 'A Dance to Remember.' o.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: Some of the info used in the fic is inspired by Tricolora from LJ. The story takes place after _A Dance to Remember_.

WARNING: CONTAINS SLASH(Ratchx'Hide with mention of past OptimusxMegatron)...so don't read if you're not into slash.

.o

****

Between Mind and Heart

.o

"Oh, great." Mikaela muttered, staring at the frozen hourglass cursor on her laptop. She frowned and double-tapped the control, alt and delete keys. The system booted slowly and ground once again to a full halt.

Outside, heavy rain fell like the hooves of war horses.

Mikaela slumped back in the passenger's seat of Optimus' cab. Optimus himself was taking his security shift outdoors while the others moved about inside the warehouse. Ever since her prom night, she found his presence rather soothing and sought him out when everything else became too stuffy. They didn't have to talk to be comfortable--just sitting in his cab made her feel better after a crappy day.

Sometimes Optimus utilized his hologram and sat in the cab with her. She found that hilarious--Optimus sitting inside himself. He never got the humor in that.

"God, stupid thing!" Mikaela rebooted her laptop. It clicked slowly through the boot up screen and...froze again.

"Technical difficulties?" Optimus' voice rumbled through the speakers.

"Yeah. It's been acting like this after I visited a website about atomic structure yesterday. Probably a virus."

Light rays emanated from the steering wheel. It grew and coalesced into Optimus' six and a half foot tall hologram. He'd improved the hologram of his robotic self a lot since Mikaela last saw him use it. He looked real before...but now the comparison was something akin to normal television versus high definition.

"Let me look."

She slid the laptop into his open hands. "Can't you just connect wirelessly?"

He cocked his head and said in his usual seriousness, "I will. Sometimes, I just enjoy the hands-on approach."

Again with the unintentional double meanings. Mikaela smiled and watched the rain bead up on the windshield. Beside her, Optimus propped the laptop in his lap and his metal fingers clicked against the keys. He booted it in MSDOS mode and studied each process. Finally, he typed a string of code, pressed enter and rebooted the laptop. It worked perfectly.

"Your boot sector was corrupted by a virus. I noticed your antivirus software is outdated by three months," he said. "Now, which website infected your system?"

Mikaela hesitantly gave him the URL. Optimus stared off into space as he accessed it.

"It seems innocent. Did you download anything?"

"Nope."

"Hm. Well, aside from images that won't load properly, I see nothing wrong with this website. Perhaps the virus piggybacked on one of the advertisements. Had your antivirus software been up to date, you would not have been infected. I suggest you update soon."

Mikaela glanced outside. Wind made the rain fall horizontal sheets that pelted the windshield. Thunder rumbled across the sky. "I'll see if my new McAfee arrived in the mail when I get home."

"Then I suppose--ouch!" Optimus' hologram winced. He clutched his shoulder as the rain exploded into golf ball sized hail. "It's hitting my sensor arrays. I can't see anything this way."

"How the heck can you see without a face?"

"Think of it as highly evolved sonar. As you can see, it does have its downfalls. Excuse me for a moment--I'm taking us inside. Is the street clear?"

Mikaela glanced out the side window. She saw headlights shifting aside as cars pulled to the side of the road. The hail sounded like bombs falling, fraying her nerves.

"Yeah, people are pulling over." She winced when the hailstorm intensified. "Let's get out of this before you lose a window."

Optimus' hologram vanished without a word. Mikaela closed her eyes while he backed up enough to turn around and pull into the warehouse. The sound of ice pelting the roof sounded like explosions.

"Earth weather is annoying," groused Ironhide.

Outside, the hail stones continued to pound the wet gravel. Some bounced nearly six feet high when they landed. Wind rocked street lights and tore branches off a nearby tree, carrying on its back the smell of wet pavement. A lightning bolt tore the darkened sky asunder for one ten-thousandth of a second. Thunder followed its wake with the force of a hammer. Mikaela could barely hear herself think over the hail hitting the roof. Fortunately the worst of it seemed to pass, turning the roar of ice to the patter of heavy sheet rain.

"We're under a microburst," she said to herself. "Even somebody like Starscream couldn't fly in this."

"Good," said Ironhide. He gave his cannons a twirl, "I hope that slagger crashes his aft."

Lightning again. This time the thunderclap vibrated the entire warehouse. Too close for comfort. Mikaela screeched and dashed away from the door.

"Shit!" Sam yelled from the other room, "What is this, the Apocalypse? Someone shut the sky up, I'm trying to STUDY in here!"

"If the sky were sentient enough to understand us, I doubt we'd be heard over this noise." Optimus' deep voice overlapped another thunder boom.

"Good point," Mikaela made a face.

Optimus swung his passenger door open. As soon as Mikaela climbed out, he transformed into his bipedal mode and gave himself a little shake that dislodged most of the water beaded on his armor. He didn't seem to be too badly dented...just the one spot on his shoulder that he fixed without assistance.

"Weather reports indicate we're under a severe thunderstorm warning." Ratchet said. His words proved prophetic when loud thunder crackled seemingly right outside. "Mikaela, Sam, I advise you to contact your parental units and inform them you will be late arriving home. My sensors are detecting poor road conditions and intense lightning activity. Though, some of us could benefit from a good strike or two," he looked pointedly at Ironhide.

The bulky black mech narrowed his optics, "Says the one who walks into live power lines."

"You're so old you'd rust in five minutes just walking outside."

Bumblebee cranked up his radio. _"You make me wanna LA-LA!"_

Sam burst from the side room, a pencil in one hand and a towel in the other. He flung the towel at Bumblebee's leg. "Bumblebee! Anything but Ashley Simpson! I _need_ my brain cells for Algebra!"

The music cut out. Ratchet and Ironhide exchanged confused looks. Optimus scratched the side of his head.

Bumblebee shrugged. "Not a major sacrifice. You have millions more."

Mikaela heard Sam groan and start dialing on his cell phone.

"Dad? Hi, it's Sam. Uh, the weather's nasty. I'm staying with Mikaela till it passes. So--huh? _Dad_, no!" His eyes bugged out, "We're--studying! What the--oh, c'mon, I always have one in my pocket! No, I'm not going to use it! I just _have_ it."

She grinned at the helpless expression on his face. Sam's parents were...interesting...to say the least.

"...I'll call you when I'm leaving. Okay? Yup, thanks. Bye." He hung up and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. His face flushed slightly, "Glad that's over. They were freaking out. My dad said he'd bang out any dents the hail put in my car."

At that, Bumblebee shuddered in disgust. "The last time he did that, I ached for a week. I would rather have my legs blown off again than endure two minutes of that hammer."

Mikaela whipped out her own phone. As a latchkey kid, she knew she'd get the answering machine. "Mom, hey. It's three o'clock and the weather is really bad right now. I'm hanging with Sam and I'll be back when the worst passes. Might be late. Bye."

Thunder roared overhead. Mikaela felt the vibrations in her breastbone. She still hadn't shook off the full effect of Mission City. Thunder reminded her of the explosions and artillery fire. She refused to wilt under her fear. That fight ended months ago--Optimus reassured her it was okay to let it go.

Optimus pushed the warehouse door shut and eased to sit in his usual spot next to it. Just in time for the wind to shift and send rain pelting against the metal. "I'm sure it won't get any worse than this. The sound of the rain is actually rather soothing."

__

Only when it doesn't sound like it's going to eat you, Mikaela thought.

Deafening thunder crackled and the overhead lights guttered out.

"Great," groaned Sam, "It hit a transformer."

Four pairs of azure optics blinked in the darkness. The row of thin windows near the west ceiling didn't provide enough daylight to see. Then Ratchet's headlights came on to eerily illuminate the warehouse.

"I'm so glad I called my dad," Sam muttered.

Ironhide rotated his cannons. "Doesn't this building have a backup generator?"

"I think so," Mikaela squinted at the back corner, "But I don't know if it's charged or not."

"Charging isn't a problem."

"There is a generator in the southeastern corner," Optimus said. He was an ocean of calm in the middle of chaos, but Mikaela knew that deep inside he raged just like the storm outside. She could still see him kneeling on the docks, Megatron's head resting tenderly against his chest while he gently thumbed the dirt off his jagged cheeks. His face had the most solemn, composed expression she'd ever seen. At the time she thought it was some obscure Cybertronian ritual for the dead. Now she knew she witnessed him saying goodbye.

And she could tell Optimus still grieved the death of his love, his home and his comrade. There was no "getting over" a loss of that magnitude.

Ironhide stopped spinning his cannons and retracted them into his arms. Ratchet's light played eerily over his battle scarred visage.

He said, "You're looking a little overclocked there, Prime. Catch some recharge. Nothing's going on that you need to worry about. I can handle this."

Optimus looked ready to protest, though a moment's consideration resigned him to silence. He nodded slowly and leaned back against the wall with his arms crossed. His eyelids snapped shut and the light his optics cast slowly dimmed the faintest flicker. All of his systems cycled down to minimum power, which was evident when his joints all hissed in unison to release any lasting tension.

"'bout time he recharged," muttered the weapons specialist.

"He hasn't been...sleeping?" Mikaela asked, frowning.

"Not efficiently, but making Optimus rest when he isn't ready is about as easy as telling Ratchet not huff whenever I mock him."

Ratchet huffed. "Ironhide, you're incorrigible."

"Ooh, big words for such a little CPU un--"

"Shut _up_, you slag bucket!"

Laughing, Ironhide brushed past Ratchet on his way to the generator.

Sam's eyes grew to the size of saucers, "Did he just..." He dropped his voice to a whisper, "Did he just tap Ratchet's ass?"

"Looked like an accident to me," Mikaela answered him. The question made her uncomfortable--she didn't think it was her place to explain Cybertronian sexuality. It'd lead to questions about where she learned it and she knew Sam wouldn't like the answers.

__

I'm not sure what would freak him out more--the fact that they can have sex or the fact that I had it with Optimus. She frowned and shivered. Her thin white spaghetti strap tank top and the black vest she wore over it did nothing to keep the cold away. "Jesus! It's cold in here."

Again, Sam's eyes widened. He licked his lips and glanced around, the wheels in his head turning until an idea made his eyebrows twitch. "Why didn't you say so? My coat's in the other room. Just hang tight, I'll get it."

His sweetness made her smile.

The torrential rain continued its sweep across the roof. Mikaela glanced up as the lights came back on. The warehouse had no heat, but light was a _good_ thing.

Then she noticed a strange sound--something like the noise of an old doorstop being bent and released. She walked closer to Optimus and leaned towards his side. His intakes knocked and clicked, spilling hot air through the spaces in his face and sides. Despite the air movement, his chest did not rise or fall like an organic. He radiated heat like an oven. She relished the warmth even though it worried her. "Ratchet?"

"Yes?"

"Something might be wrong. Optimus' intakes don't sound normal."

Worry flashed over Ratchet's face. He walked over, listened and the concern disappeared into the bemused raise of one optic ridge. "Ah, that's nothing to worry about. Air turbulence in his manifolds." He dipped his yellow head and offered her his strange, yet warm mechanical smile. "In organic terms, he's snoring."

Mikaela bit back laughter. Optimus...snoring?

Ironhide slowly made his way past Bumblebee. "Is Optimus rattling again?"

"Yes," Ratchet said. Mikaela watched him gaze deeply into his bond-mate's optics. Even gruff, harsh Ironhide softened for a heartbeat at the sight of Ratchet's caring expression. "He's still in pain from the loss of his bond mate. Inability to recharge is just one of many symptoms. Frankly, I'm surprised he hasn't cried."

Mikaela chewed on her bottom lip. Yes, yes he did cry. She held him--his hologram--while he cried for ten straight minutes. That was how she discovered his stoic manner was just a front to remain in command not just of his men, but himself as well.

"Ratchet." Ironhide whispered.

"What?" groused Ratchet as lightning flashed outside.

"I don't know what I would have done if you--"

"I didn't, so don't talk that way."

"The 'if' bothers me!" growled the weapons specialist. He pulled Ratchet to his chest and bent forward, bringing their mouth plates together with a soft clank. Reality funneled around them as they stood absolutely still. Nothing could touch them. Not the storm outside, not time, not even the worries running through their own processors. Then they moved in unison--Ironhide's left hand and Ratchet's right--and interlocked their fingers. It was...beautiful. Mikaela even saw sparks leaping between their mouths. She touched her own lips, flashing back to the tingling kiss Optimus gave her.

"And stop beatin' yourself up over Jazz. He went down fighting," said Ironhide insistently.

"His Spark was in my _hands_...my _hands_...and I couldn't keep it burning! He slipped through my--"

"We've been over this!" The weapons specialist snapped, "Jazz had no business being online when we found him, but he was! He didn't die alone out there."

"I couldn't hold him long enough for Bumblebee--"

"Jazz wouldn't have wanted him to see that."

"I should have--"

"Shut up!" Ironhide cut him off with another crackling kiss.

A gasp sounded. Mikaela's eyes wandered to the door. She froze and simultaneously felt her stomach turn to lead. Sweat broke out on her brow, under her arms and down her back.

There stood Sam, slack-jawed.

__

Oh, shit... She thought, _Pleasedon'taskme, pleasedon'taskme_...

Sam's gaze moved from the kissing mechs to Mikaela.

__

Dammit!

She twisted her lips to the side and raised her eyebrows. Nope, she wasn't going to say anything. He turned to face Bumblebee, one hand raising in a helpless, confused gesture.

"We..." Bumblebee's black face pinched in a frown, "...need to have a little talk."

Sam closed his mouth, nodded and ducked back into the room--he was so dazed he forgot to bring his jacket to Mikaela.

"Ahem!"

Ratchet and Ironhide pulled apart to focus on Bumblebee.

"Sam saw you."

Thunder bashed through the warehouse.

"So?"

"Ironhide..."

Ironhide glanced at Ratchet and slapped his palm against his forehead. "_Great_."

"Perhaps I should do this," said Ratchet. "Knowing you, you would only traumatize the boy further."

Ironhide huffed and stepped out of Ratchet's path. "Fine, I'd like to see you do better."

"Of course I will. I'm a medic. I know _I_ won't be the one to slag the poor kid's brain. You have a filthy mouth when it comes to uplink talk."

"Don't make me plug you."

Ratchet continued towards the door. "...I rest my case."

"Tch!"

"Plug?" Mikaela arched a brow.

Ironhide folded his arms and chuckled, "To put it mildly...it's inserting my fingers into his--"

"**_Ironhide!_**"

"Oh, frag off, Ratchet! She asked!"

Ratchet muttered something about disassembling Ironhide's vocal processor and tried again to coax Sam out of the back room.

Mikaela inched closer to the warm air seeping from the seams in Optimus' chassis. This was exactly the reaction she feared and it made her glad she didn't have to explain it to Sam. _C'mon, Sam...be open minded_.

"What's he so afraid of?"

She gazed up at Ironhide's dark face, silently taking in his scars and naturally harsh expression. "Guys from Earth just don't like it when something threatens their sexuality. Especially between the ages of--oh--twelve and twenty."

"How annoying." Ironhide's mouth twitched in a smirk, "Constraining your desires--"

"We kinda have to, Ironhide." Mikaela said, folding her arms, "Unlike you, females around here can end up saddled with a baby they can't afford to take care of. It can ruin somebody's life. You guys can afford to fool around."

He frowned and the glyphs on his head glistened eerily in the overhead lights. "I understand your point. What I don't understand is this concept of ridiculing lovers of the same gender. Doesn't such a bond without risk of impregnation result in more sexual freedom?"

Mikaela tipped her head back to regard Ironhide. Optimus also commented on this issue and she knew they were just trying to understand their new home. Still, it didn't make his question any less uncomfortable.

"Some say it goes against nature. Some even consider it wasting the opportunity to conceive children. Then there are religious implications that I'd rather not get into."

"Then your evolution is flawed."

"Excuse me?"

He snorted, "You attain reproductive capabilities long before you actually wish to utilize them."

"Yeah, well," Mikaela tried her best not to look as offended as she felt. She was sure Ironhide didn't mean to be so abrasive, but his statement heated the pit of her stomach. "I didn't design the human race. I'm just part of it."

"Then who designed you?"

"He did." She pointed her thumb upwards, chuckled at Ironhide's confused sneer and decided to go help Ratchet talk sense into Sam.

.o

Mikaela checked her watch. Four-thirty--still raining and thundering...and now Sam sat beside her, his head in his hands, trying to digest the information Ratchet just fed him. Fortunately, Sam finally remembered the coat and she was wrapped in warm softness that smelled like Axe body spray. Contrary to the commercials, it didn't smell good enough to make her jump Sam's bones.

"My dad doesn't like gay people..." Sam said softly. "He's always had this crazy fear of me 'getting' gay."

"Homosexuality is a term used for lovers of the same gender. Cybertronians _have_ no genders." Ratchet said dulcetly, remaining calm despite his obvious frustration. He'd only explained it about ten times. "'He' is a pronoun we use to identify ourselves as something other than objects. We fit the protocols you deem masculine--and, Sam, I do understand your confusion." He glanced Mikaela's way, "Gender is as alien a term to me as genderless is to you. In fact, the idea of sexual reproduction is extremely fascinating." He refocused on Sam, "Which reminds me...are you ever going to tell me your penis measurements?"

"_RATCHET!_" Mikaela and Sam both groaned.

"...what?" the medic blinked, "It's for science."

"My junk isn't for public inspection," Sam muttered. He looked helplessly at Mikaela and pointedly folded his hands over his lap.

Ironhide slid next to Ratchet and wrapped a possessive arm around his waist. "We've been together for nine million years, Sam. Bumblebee and Jazz were going to bond..." At that, Mikaela's heart paused. Ironhide went blithely on, "...and Optimus loved his bond mate even longer than all of us put together."

"Ten billion years," Ratchet added. "His lifetime."

Sam's gaze flicked from Bumblebee to Ratchet, then to Ironhide and finally Mikaela. "Who was his...uh...mate?"

"Megatron," Optimus' voice answered softly.

Startled, Mikaela looked up. Optimus' eyes were still closed and offline. Did he wake up long enough to answer? Was he talking in his sleep?

Sam's features blanched. "The Cube..."

"Sam, he's not mad at you. You did what he couldn't." Mikaela rubbed his arm, "He told me that himself a while back."

Rubbing his head, Sam slowly made his way past Ratchet's leg, gazed dazedly up at Bumblebee and slipped back into the side room. Mikaela knew he'd come around in time...after he got over the shock. She refocused on Optimus as his intakes resumed their soft rattling.

"He talked in his sleep."

"His Spark calls for its mate." Ironhide replied. He seemed haunted by his leader's emotionally charged state. Realization slapped into Mikaela like the thunder outside. This was exactly what Optimus meant about keeping himself controlled--the moment of emotion he showed in his sleep made Ironhide uneasy, which meant Ratchet was moody and Bumblebee could do nothing but sit beside Jazz's torn remains. They didn't take well to their leader being anything less than a pillar of strength.

Mikaela looked up at Optimus. His face was turned to her. He appeared serene, betraying nothing of the pain raging in his Spark.

"Does this mean you guys dream?"

Ratchet regarded her through the corner of his optic, "Recharge means all functions but the most vital are turned off."

__

You don't dream? Mikaela found that incredibly sad. "Then why did he say Megatron's name?"

Turning once more to Ironhide, Ratchet said to her, "As Ironhide said, his Spark reached for its mate. It will go unanswered and Optimus will awaken knowing that."

Cold water dripped onto Mikaela's cheek. She looked up at the ceiling and squinted, looking for the leak. There was none. She searched until she noticed moisture clinging to Optimus' eyelids.

__

His Spark must be crying. She leaned on his leg even though she knew he couldn't feel her. Somehow, it gave her the impression of helping him stay upright against his grief. She listened to the thrum of his Spark, a faint, pulsing hum droning beneath the air rushing into his intakes.

Faintly, she heard Sam whispering to Bumblebee. Relief flooded her. Better to have Sam accepting this than acting as if everything between them changed the moment he learned his giant alien friends were sexual beings.

.o

"Mikaela?"

She opened her eyes. Wait, when did she close them?

Again, the voice spoke, a low rumble vibrating the side of her face. "Mikaela, wake up. It's almost nineteen-thirty and the rain has diminished considerably."

Mikaela became suddenly aware of her cheek resting against Optimus' left arm. Embarrassed at herself for falling asleep, she sat up straight to regard the Autobot leader. He blinked slowly. She half expected him to yawn or stretch, but he didn't.

"Geez...I didn't mean to fall asleep on you. How long have you been awake?"

"One hour."

"Mm. Sam taking me home?"

"Sam and Bumblebee left shortly after I came online. I told them I'd escort you home. I--" He paused a moment and sat absolutely still. Mikaela arched a brow. His voice resumed where he left off, "--thought it best to let you recharge a little longer."

Mikaela wondered if the cold weather made "waking up" harder for Autobots. Then she dismissed it, leaned on him and sighed tiredly. It was nice of Optimus to look out for her this way. "Thanks...my mom doesn't get home until after midnight most nights, though, and that's if she comes home at all. Part of her job."

"What does she do?"

"She's a nurse at the county hospital."

"Ah. The urge to repair must be genetic," Optimus closed one eye in a wink.

Mikaela chuckled at him. "Guess so."

She rubbed a hand through her hair to remove the surface tangles and looked around the warehouse. Ratchet was clearly in recharge and Ironhide sat outside in vehicle mode, taking his guard duty shift. From the look of things, power hadn't been fully restored yet. She shivered at the prospect of returning to a dark house without electricity.

"Sam saw Ironhide and Ratchet kiss. They talked to him--well, Ratchet did all the talking. I still don't know how he's taking it. He freaked out a bit from what I saw."

Optimus slapped his forehead with his hand, scrunched his face plates and shook his head. "Hopefully Bumblebee will offer a less...clinical...explanation that will appease Sam."

"Yeah. Sorry about that." Mikaela yawned.

"You have nothing to apologize for. Maybe--uh, Mikaela? Your abdomen just made a strange sound. Are you functioning properly?"

She covered her stomach as her face flushed, "I'm fine. Just a little hungry. Hey, think we could swing past Taco Bell? I don't feel like cooking tonight. Stove probably won't work at home anyway. It's electric."

"I have no qualms with visiting this fast food...place."

"That settles that. Let's go."

Optimus chuckled and transformed himself into truck mode. He did it a little slower than usual, as if the storm's coldness seeped into his joints and left them a tad stiff.

Exactly fifteen minutes later, Mikaela exited the restaurant and climbed back into Optimus' cab. He drove two blocks to the abandoned alley where they first met and parked next to a dumpster.

Mikaela set her soda in the cup holder Optimus so graciously extended for her. Then she rattled the bag open and the smell of beans wafted deliciously into her nostrils. She unwrapped one end of her burrito and sank her teeth into its flavor. Soft tortilla gave way to the steaming tang of beans and nearly liquid cheese. Sipping her soda added a cold, sweet rush. She closed her eyes like an addict getting a fix. "Mm, so good..."

"What is it like?"

"Hm?" She swallowed, "What's what like?"

"Taste."

"Um..." Mikaela scratched her head. Explaining taste was like describing color for someone blind since birth. "It's...wow, this is hard...you guys can't taste?"

"Not the way you seem to. I can detect the chemicals within a substance. Like the piece you just dropped--it contains gluten and an abundance of polysaccharides."

For a split second, Mikaela pondered dripping hot sauce on his dashboard to see his reaction. Then she decided against it. At the very worst he'd give her a long list of chemicals and she'd have to clean up the mess.

"What do you guys eat then?"

"My body can convert many of Earth's fuels into a usable energy source."

Nodding, Mikaela took another bite of her burrito.

"Returning to our previous subject, what is taste like? How does it..." Optimus' voice dropped to a whisper that shot straight down her spine, "feel?"

She swallowed, licking her lips. "Um...it's--warm. The tortilla bread is sorta bland by itself--"

"Describe its texture." He sounded genuinely curious.

"Hm...soft, a little rough. Inside it is the best part." She bit down and chewed, focusing intently on the sensations filling her tongue. It was weird to pay such attention to an act as simple as eating--especially since she usually rushed through it so she could focus on homework. "It's warm...the beans just kind of melt and the cheese is all gooey and stringy. Good stuff."

"Interesting. What about your beverage?"

"My Pepsi?" Mikaela sipped it instead of gulping. "Cold...the bubbles make it sound like an arena of people are clapping in my head." She swallowed it, "And it tingles when I swallow. Burritos are a bit salty, but sodas are usually sweet. They're...opposite...flavors. Sort of."

"And you take enjoyment from these mixtures of texture and flavor?"

"Yeah."

"Then answer me this one question..."

"Hm?"

"This treat you call chocolate. Does its taste actually equate to sexual pleasure?"

Mikaela covered her mouth so she wouldn't spray beans all over Optimus' windshield. "I'm sorry," she tried to stop snickering long enough to avoid choking on the food in her mouth. "Um..." She giggled again, "People often say 'if food was sex, it'd be chocolate.' So what do you think?"

Optimus laughed and rocked on his wheels. "Taste sounds like an _amazing_ sense."

"It is, Optimus," she consumed the last of her burrito and patted the seat, "I think touch is better, though. It's the sense that tells me I'm alive."

"I see no argument in that."

Mikaela smiled, "So...what does transforming feel like? No...first...how does it work? Is it--is it voluntary or do you just kind of set it off and your body does the rest?"

"The act of transforming is controlled by a string of software subroutines that execute in a specified order. This order can be changed or interrupted if doing so is necessary. And, unless I've taken heavy damage or have a foreign substance lodged in my joints--like sand--the process is painless."

She leaned back, taking in his explanation and relishing it. When she first met Optimus she was afraid he'd think such questions were rude. And she had so many--some she hadn't thought of yet.

"Why a Peterbilt?"

His voice gave a bemused rumble. "I can only mimic a vehicle roughly the same mass as myself. It was the first available source. I rather like this form. I...used to be silver."

"Like Megatron."

"Yes..."

Mikaela absently finished her soda, pushed the empty cup into the Taco Bell bag and threw her trash into the dumpster right outside the window. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't bring him up."

"It's all right, Mikaela. I feel free enough to speak about him with you. Not so much with the others."

She knew why. It made him emotional and he had to stay the strong, unimpeachable leader. Even Bumblebee never mentioned he was in a relationship with Jazz--he hadn't given a single outward sign of grief at all except for the way he sat by the deceased Autobot's body.

"Death used to be such a foreign concept to me," Optimus spoke quietly, almost to himself. "And suddenly I began to see it every day. And Megatron...he died in such agony, Mikaela. I saw the pain in his eyes. He never said a word to me--he just...gazed back, silent. Then he was gone. I can't reach him. I'll never reach him."

"You don't believe in an afterlife? Like...Heaven?"

"We generally don't concern ourselves with the unknown, Mikaela."

Tears stung her eyes. His tone wasn't accusing or angry, but the answer itself seemed cold...a blinding reminder that under it all, Optimus was a machine. Sophisticated, evolved, alive, sentient...but still a machine.

"The prospect of my own death doesn't frighten me. I know that, should the worst happen..." Oddly, his voice had a smile behind it, "...I know I'm surrounded by people who will--"

The pause stretched on. Fifteen seconds, thirty seconds. Mikaela lifted both eyebrows and jiggled his door handle. "Optimus?"

No answer.

"Optimus!"

"--remember me."

"Oh." She chewed her bottom lip. Something wasn't right. "Um, Optimus?"

"Yes?"

Worried now, Mikaela leaned forward and frowned, "You trailed off. I never heard you do that before."

"I spoke a complete sentence, Mikaela. Are you sure your audios are functioning properly?"

She shook her head. "No, you stopped."

"My memory banks never recorded a pause."

"Well, you did. Maybe you need more sleep...recharge...stuff. And have Ratchet check you out just in case. Can't have you falling apart just yet, you know."

"That is a most unlikely scenario," Optimus all but snickered. "Would you like me to stay with you when you return home?"

The question shot little thrills down her spine and across her belly. Practicality kicked in. Having a huge truck parked outside the house too often would arouse suspicion from the neighbors. One might even call the police...and in her nightmares one of those police cars would be Barricade lining up for a killing shot. It was always her fault when Optimus got hurt in her dreams.

And that was when she wasn't dreaming about him in bed with her. Those waking visions often left her sweaty and aroused. She wasn't supposed to have such thoughts about Optimus anymore!

"Thanks, but I'll probably go to bed as soon as I get home. I'm still pretty tired. You should get some rest after you drop me off."

"That sounds like a plan." Optimus' engine started and he pulled gently onto the empty road. Street lights began coming on as power was restored to the block.

Mikaela rejoiced--she wouldn't be walking into a scary pitch black house.

"We are being followed."

Her mental party crashed down. She looked in the side mirror and her heart froze at the black and white Saleen glistening menacingly in the amber street lights. "I thought Bumblebee got rid of him! I-I saw him trashed!"

"Obviously not damaged enough to extinguish his Spark. Mikaela, get into the driver's seat and buckle your safety belt."

Mikaela hurriedly scooted over, pulled seat belt from its home and fastened it into the clasp. "What's he want?"

"I'm not sure. My destruction for one. He may not realize Megatron is gone." Optimus remained utterly calm as he pulled up to a stoplight. "If I can, I want to avoid a fight. If our numbers are doomed to dwindle...every life is precious."

"Precious, right, say that again when he's trying to pound your face in."

Optimus' air brakes hissed. Was he irritated?

Barricade rolled slowly to a stop behind them.

Mikaela's heart pounded hard against her sternum. She grasped the steering wheel just in time to feel it jerk to the left. Suddenly, Optimus' engine roared. Tires screeched in a cloud of smoke. He peeled out of the intersection and gunned it down the darkened street. Mikaela saw only the white and yellow flashes of the street reflectors his headlights briefly illuminated.

"Call the others!"

"He's jamming my signal," Optimus' low voice gained a slightly harsh edge. "I'm leading him away from the base."

Rain speckled, then pelted the windshield. Lightning ominously lit up the sky to signal the storm wasn't over--in more ways than one. Briefly, Mikaela glimpsed the police vehicle still in pursuit.

"If it hails again, Mikaela, take the wheel. You are my advantage--Barricade does not have a driver."

Like that made her feel any better! She tried her cell phone. The battery was dead. She cursed Murphy's law and shoved it back into her pocket.

Optimus drove swiftly over a flooded dip, causing water to spray in all directions. Rain and condensation covered the windows too thickly to see anything other than light and shadows. Optimus was avoiding the major intersections. Mikaela didn't worry about him running into a dead end--he had GPS--and she could track his progress on the little screen beside the steering wheel. His present course took them towards the same grassy hill where he rescued her ruined prom night.

They approached the hill.

And passed it in a blur.

Ahead, railroad lights blinked as the signal gates lowered. Mikaela heard the train toot its horn. It sounded like it was right on top of them!

Optimus crashed right through the gate at breakneck speed. The Amtrak train roared by mere inches from his back tires and smashed into Barricade's right front headlight. Mikaela winced at the sound of metal meeting metal. Barricade spun out in a spray of broken glass.

"He's only delayed," Optimus' voice tore away her relief. He sped down the road--Mikaela had no idea where he was going because the driving rain made everything a blur.

"Is he still jamming your signal?"

"Yes. What about your cellular phone?"

"Battery's dead. Maybe if we--"

A horn blared. Someone had pulled an illegal U-turn right across Optimus' path!

Optimus swerved hard to the right, his semi horn blasting full volume. He turned too smoothly, too easily, and Mikaela realized with horror that he was hydroplaning on the wet road. A very wet road with a very steep drop off towards which they were very quickly sliding. She desperately gripped the steering wheel and pumped the brake pedal.

"I can't stop. Brace for impact!"

"_Optimus!_" Mikaela screamed and covered her head with both arms.


	2. Chapter 2

Screeching tires filled the night air. Mikaela's reality swirled around her. She thought of her mom, her dad, Sam and--

Optimus _barely_ banked away from skidding off the hill. In doing so, he tilted until he lost his balance and rolled. Sparks flew and screeching metal tore into Mikaela's ears as Optimus flipped twice and slid the rest of the way on his side. His passenger side mirror snapped off with a sickening crunch. An eternity went by before the grinding sounds gave way to stillness and the patter of rain.

"Are you all right?"

She gulped air into her lungs. Gravity pushed her neck painfully against the seatbelt straps. "Y-yeah...are you?"

"Nothing Ratchet can't repair," came his cool reply. "Barricade is gone."

"He didn't follow us?"

"No, he didn't." Optimus' engine rumbled, idling. "The train likely injured him enough to hide and repair himself."

"I'm just glad that ugly bastard isn't here to kick you while you're down."

"You have a point," he chuckled bemusedly, "And I've learned a lesson in road dynamics that may prove an advantage in the rain. The train hit Barricade because his brakes failed on the wet road."

"Hydroplaning. Yeah, it's nasty." Mikaela waited for her heart to slow down. "Can you get up?"

"Not unless I transform."

Which would crush her if she stayed in his cab--she'd seen him transform enough times to know he had no room to house a person in his true form.

__

I'm glad I wore old clothes today.

She pushed the door open, unbuckled her seat belt and vaulted up into the stinging rain. Then she swung her legs over his underside and slid down, gripping the doorstep to break her fall before hopping to the ground. His wet chrome soaked the butt of her jeans. She landed in a puddle that splashed her front half. Water squelched over the sides of her shoes, soaking her socks. The rain continued its assault, drenching her hair and jean jacket.

__

Ugh, just great. Thanks a lot, Barricade! Mikaela thought miserably. She focused her despair into her making her voice loud enough to hear over the rain. "I'm clear."

The overturned red and blue Peterbilt broke into pieces as its shape slowly transfigured itself into a twenty-eight foot tall bipedal robot with gentle, glowing blue eyes. Mikaela glimpsed the glimmer of his Spark when his engine block flipped over to make room for his torso. The crash left silver scratches and dents all down his side.

Optimus stood still a moment, staring off in the general direction they came from. The rain ran off his body in sheets and washed the mud off his tires. He frowned and glanced at his hands. Without a word he shifted back into vehicle mode. Every motion of his body was slow, deliberate, as if he didn't want to aggravate an injury.

Soaked, Mikaela scrambled back into his cab and scooted over into the passenger seat. The heater came on before she had a chance to complain about being cold.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked.

"My sensors are experiencing a five nanosecond lag. It isn't--serious. Think of it as your equivalent to a mild concussion."

"Optimus, I swear, if you're really hurt you had better tell me."

"Mikaela, I'm _fine_." For once, he sounded a little irritated, his voice taking on a prickly edge that normally wasn't there. She remembered him using the same tone towards Agent Simmons.

"Don't get pissy, okay? Please?" Mikaela wasn't in the mood to fight--not even with a billions-of-years-old mechanical life form. She still hadn't recovered from how close they came to flipping into the gorge. She gritted her teeth and covered her eyes with one hand, fighting back tears.

"Mikaela..." Cool metal fingertips brushed her wrist. She grasped the hand as if her life depended on it. Another hand cupped her knuckles in an envelope of safety. "I apologize for getting short with you."

If what she saw earlier was him getting testy, she'd knew she'd hate to see him enraged.

"It's okay. I'm just...I'm just freaked out right now. Barricade chasing us--it's just like my nightmares. I'm not over those yet."

"I won't let him hurt you." Optimus' hologram reached over and lifted her hand off her eyes. His metallic face and shining blue optics offered the sincerest reassurance of his oath, "I promise."

Lightning illuminated his angled visage. His hologram did not reflect the damage to his real body.

Aesthetically, he was pleasing to look at. But it wasn't his appearance that captured her. Part of her attraction to him came from his voice...in fact his voice intrigued her from the beginning. Then there was his optics. What made his eyes--those robotic, alien, yet beautiful eyes--so deep and alluring? They weren't just cameras that read movement like Honda's ASIMO robot...they _penetrated_ her. He gazed at her like she held the world. Like she meant something. And there was the fact that he wasn't hanging around with her to gain status amongst his peers. He liked to be with her, not be _seen_ with her.

Mikaela sucked in a breath. She had a million things she wanted to say, but didn't know how. Words seemed too cumbersome. Defining her feelings proved impossible. A million unspoken things hung on the water droplets clinging to her eyelashes. She squeezed his metal hand and pushed her emotions out in a single, whispered word.

"Thanks."

Optimus' mouth and eyes softened into a smile. He patted her hand, "You're welcome."

The rain lightened from a downpour to soft patters against the windows.

Then his engine rumbled to life and amusement trickled into his smile. He slowly winked one eye shut, "Watch this...I'm going to drive myself."

"You can do that?"

Moving back, Optimus did exactly what he said. He pressed the gas pedal with his foot, grasped bottom of the steering wheel and eased the truck--himself--into motion.

The radio popped on. Haunting piano and guitar chords rippled from the speakers. Old music--seventies--and Optimus tapped his fingers on the wheel in time to the lazy, relaxed beat.

Waves of nostalgia washed over Mikaela. She knew this song because her dad always played it when he worked on cars.

The lyrics emerged like smoke. Optimus opened his mouth and sang along when the song reached the chorus, his deep voice finding perfect harmony with the lead singer of Lynyrd Skynyrd.

__

"...'cause I'm as free as a bird now...and this bird you cannot change... Sing it with me, Mikaela... _and this bird you cannot change..."_

Mikaela jumped in with him and turned the song into the strangest three-part harmony she'd ever heard. Optimus revved his engines and...looked utterly ridiculous trying to play an air guitar. He met her eyes and his mouth plates quirked into something she could only describe as a smirk.

After all the tension, the fright and the stress, Mikaela guffawed. She decided she liked this side of Optimus. He seemed so approachable and friendly, nothing like the unimpeachable, emotionally distant being he was when they first met. And she doubted he'd ever act this way around anyone besides her. She...freed him...somehow.

Optimus tipped his head back and laughed as the song ended. "I don't know what it is about that particular song...I often play it when I'm alone. Does it have any significance to you?"

"Yeah," Mikaela gazed out the window. Laughing so hard left her relaxed, "It reminds me of my dad. And sometimes..." She looked at him. It was dark inside his truck cab, so all she could see was the glow of his optics and the street lights playing off his chrome body. "...so do you."

"I'm honored," he said gently, meeting her gaze. "How long is his sentence?"

"Ten years. He has five more to go."

"Why did he break the law?"

She bit her lip, "We needed money. When you're desperate, Optimus, you do crazy things." And he nodded in complete understanding. She went on, "The three of us were living in his camper so my mom could pay for medical school. I remember...one time...I sat in Pizza Hut all day so I could collect the pizza crusts people left behind and eat them for dinner. Then I used a garden hose to brush my teeth and wash my hair. When the cops came and demanded I identify my dad in a lineup, I refused to do it. Didn't keep him out of jail, but I know I'm not the one who turned him in. And I know you know more than anybody how hard it is to see someone you love in trouble."

Optimus' optics blinked twice in rapid succession.

"And Sam...he's sweet and I like him a lot...but he doesn't know what it's like to have a hard life. He complains about how his parents suffocate him when he doesn't realize how lucky he is to _have_ two parents to smother him."

"Sam is a smart young man," said Optimus. He eased the steering wheel to the left and merged onto the freeway overpass. It was a roundabout way to reach the warehouse, but Mikaela figured he took the long way so they had more time to talk. "You both seem to have what the other wants--him, more freedom and you, more shelter."

__

Yeah, but you have the understanding_, Optimus,_ she thought. _You know what it means to sacrifice, suffer and wonder whether or not you'll wake up alive tomorrow_.

"I'm always afraid I'll wake up to find everything I care about gone," Mikaela sighed. "Does anything like that scare you?"

"It's...a similar fear," Optimus replied softly, and she tried not to look at his hands when they slid apart to grip the wheel at five and seven o'clock. "Helplessness."

"That's how I feel most of the time. I make up for it by acting tougher than I am. Sometimes I--just want to scream and hit something."

"I understand." He glanced at her, his expression easing into a smile, "Just don't hit me. I heard you have a rather mean left hook."

"Don't worry, I'll hit Ratchet instead." She smiled back before growing serious again. "I've gotta admit--I didn't see why you had to hold back until I saw how Ironhide reacted to you talking in your sleep. You really are the glue that holds them together."

Optimus frowned, "It isn't an easy position. I'm so mired in decisions--some of which may put my men at risk." His frown melted into casual bemusement. "Which is why I take great enjoyment in excursions like this...minus a few hiccups here and there, of course."

Mikaela eyed the scrapes on his hood and silently agreed. She ran a hand through her damp hair, "Same here."

Another song started on the radio. The music filtered gently from the speakers. Mikaela recognized the singer as Richard Marx. She loved this song--secretly, of course.

"Hey, Optimus, could you turn that up?"

"Certainly."

Clearer now, the lyrics went on.

__

"...I saw you smile...  
And my mind could not erase  
the beauty of your face...  
Just for a while,  
won't you let me shelter you..."

Tears welled in Mikaela's eyes. Optimus' heater had almost dried her off, but she couldn't fight the sudden chill in her bones. She cast out her thoughts and silently scooted over, coming to rest in Optimus' lap. Optimus didn't say a word--he slipped his arms around her like armor and cupped the back of her head, a move that cemented her belief in his understanding her feelings. He didn't ask her to explain, he didn't question her, he simply accepted and offered the comfort she sought.

__

"Hold on to the nights...  
hold on to the memories.  
I wish that I could give you something more--  
that I could be yours..."

"Hey, Optimus?"

His powerful voice rumbled in her ear, "Yes, Mikaela?"

She smiled against his throat, "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

And the radio played on.

__

"How do we explain  
something that took us by surprise?  
Promises in vain,  
love that is real but in disguise..."

But the rest faded as exhaustion pulled Mikaela towards sleep. She didn't know how long she slept. She woke up to the sensation of Optimus carrying her bridal style through her front door. He laid her gently on the living room couch, slipped her key back into her coat pocket and pulled the crocheted afghan off the back of the couch. His strong metal fingers were a hard contrast to the soft yarn being drawn up around her shoulders. She felt him tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. Then she heard the door close and the sound of a diesel engine rumbling down the street.

.o

Sam was absent from school the next day. Food poisoning, his mother had said when Mikaela called to check up on him. Probably for the best--she spent much of the day completely distracted by what happened the night before. Remembering it spawned more memories--most of which involved Optimus and her rescued prom night.

After school, Mikaela flipped open her cell phone and tried Sam again.

"Hello?" he croaked, his voice obviously raw from throwing up.

"Hey. It's Mikaela. How are you?"

"Shitty. Don't come over today...I'm afraid I'll pass this on."

"Oh, I'm sorry you're sick, Sam." She sympathized with him. "I guess I'm hugging you in spirit, how's that?"

The smile was evident in his voice, "That helps. Um...need me to send 'Bee?"

Mikaela's blue eyes flickered to the silver grill catching the sunlight as it came over the hill. Bumblebee must've radioed Optimus when Sam made it clear he wasn't coming to school. "No...I have a ride. I'll be okay."

"Trent isn't botherin' you?"

"Nope. I can handle him. He's just a pest." She climbed into the driver's side of the Peterbilt, glanced around to make sure no one paid any attention to her and settled a hand on the steering wheel. "When do you think you'll be back in school?"

"One...maybe two days unless...uh oh--Mikaela, I gotta go. I'm gonna puke again."

"Ew. Feel better, Sam."

"Bye."

The line went dead. Mikaela wrinkled her nose as she snapped her phone shut and slipped it into her pocket. "Sam's sick."

"I heard. What made him ill?"

"His digestive system is...malfunctioning...you could say. He'll be okay in a few days."

"I'm sorry he isn't feeling well."

"So am I..." she gripped the steering wheel, pretending to steer while it was really Optimus who had control.

They were quiet as they rolled through the next few blocks. Here and there, city crew scuttled to clear branches from the main street. Traffic bottlenecked. Optimus barely squeezed through. He pulled onto a side street, clearly deciding he didn't want to deal with slow traffic all the way to the warehouse.

As they pulled onto an empty back road, he spoke up, "What are you thinking about right now?"

"Last night," she managed to maintain a casual tone. _I'm not supposed to be attracted to you anymore_...

He replied smoothly at the very bottom of his voice, "So was I."

__

...but it's fucking impossible not to be.

Mikaela sat back in the seat that seemed to always adjust itself to her shape. Everything she felt last night rushed up like a fist wrapping warmly around her heart. The reaction was sudden, carnal and visceral, a tickle in her innards that heated her blood. It happened too fast for her to swallow or control it.

Optimus went on, "You--make me feel things I never thought I'd feel again..."

His brakes hissed and he drove onto a dirt road that crackled under his tires. He rolled forward a few yards, turned so the sun wasn't shining into his cab and stopped. Before them, the city of Tranquility flowed under the late afternoon sun.

"...and I think, right now, we both desire the same thing," he whispered, his tone heading down a dark, steamy path with only one exit.

"Yeah?" she played coy.

The radio clicked on. She heard the zap of his hologram materializing behind the driver's seat.

"Mikaela." Optimus commanded, "Dance with me."

Mikaela forgot all about the world outside the truck cabin. She took the hand Optimus lowered, letting him pull her up to his chest. There was no room to move unless they stood body to body, flesh and metal pressed together by the walls.

Her hands were under his chest plates, gently touching his porcelain-like components. Achingly hot metal vibrated against her palms. She was wearing a black long-sleeved crop top and faded low-rise jeans--attire technically not allowed at school, but she wore a sweater over it...a sweater she forgot in her locker, she realized with brief dismay. Having a bare midsection let her feel his fingertips paint iridescent fire against her spinal column while his smooth undercarriage warmed her stomach. Once he touched her the rest of reality stopped mattering. She didn't care that he wasn't human anymore--she needed him, _now_.

Whitesnake began a hypnotic rhythm over the radio. Synthesizers, electric guitars and drums brushed her ears the way the Autobot leader's gentle hands touched her skin. Then the lyrics began, making her remember how Optimus sounded singing along with Lynyrd Skynyrd the night before. He could imitate every aspect of the human voice, even singing, his tone always a dark, mysterious baritone that tasted like smoke and thunder. He didn't sing along with the radio this time, but he didn't need to. The song laced itself into every movement they made together.

__

"I should have known better  
than to let you go alone.  
It's times like these I can't make it on my own..."

Mikaela slipped her arms around Optimus' neck. His optics were like eclipses--dark, but still glowing in rings of endless need around his dilated pupils. Those depths pulled her in, stole her breath and called her name in languages she'd never heard before. She felt every inch of his hard, metal body almost molding itself to her soft skin. No space existed between them as their hips and feet moved in tandem to the music's rhythm.

__

"...I find I spend my time waiting on your call.  
How can I tell you babe,  
my back's against the wall..."

He lifted her up with one hand. She threw her legs around his waist while he held her against the wall. Their faces were inches apart, so close she felt the air from his intakes exiting the spaces in his face plates. His eyelids barely blinked--like he thought blinking would extinguish the flames building between their twined bodies.

__

"...I need you by my side to tell me it's all right.  
'Cause I don't think I can take anymore..."

She slipped the bit of armor covering his Spark chamber down and touched the burning doors. Static tickled her fingertips. His eyes and hands trembled.

"Yes," he whispered, "Please..."

Mikaela leaned into him, heart to Spark, her fingers gripping the transparent wires barely visible through his neck joints. Optimus revved his engine hard and ground her against his own inner wall. Every inch of him vibrated, sending tingles across her skin. She bent over his neck like a vampire and _bit_ one of those cables.

"Ahh! Oh!" His palm slapped into the wall above her head.

"Am I hurting you?"

His hand slid down to cup her cheek. "_No_," he growled in her ear. A hungry, needy sound drowning her even deeper in desire.

__

"Is this love that I'm feeling?  
Is this the love that I've been searching for?  
Is this love or am I dreaming?"

Their movements grew more frenzied. They knew what they were doing this time. Hands grabbed. Metal fingertips pressed against flesh and flesh fingertips glided over metal. Reddening human lips brushed burning Cybertronian mouth plates. Hissing intakes synched with gasping lungs. Spark and soul touched in a shower of swirling emotion.

His hands were so good...so _good_...she hung on the edge, wishing for all the world she didn't have to slip over the side and end this fantastic moment. But nothing could stop her body--or his--from plummeting off the electric peak their actions sent skyward.

Mikaela saw Optimus' face plates scrunch together. His engine roared, the pistons inside spinning and cranking out incredible horsepower. She embraced him while her own response spiraled out of control.

"Unh! Mikaela..." Optimus started to lose himself, "_Ohhh!_" He threw his head back and his horn blasted, scaring away the birds sitting on his real body's hood.

Her hands clawed for purchase on his armor and somehow ended up gripping his ear finials. They held so much static energy that she felt tingling spread up her arms. Optimus made a weird, digitized noise, his body pressing closer to her heartbeat. Every inch of him was completely electrified.

"Mmh...oh, God!" Whimpering, her face rapidly turning red, Mikaela gave in to the inevitable. She moaned and let her head drop back against the wall. Sweat gleamed on her flushed skin. She didn't care how she looked or sounded anymore, she just _felt_.

__

"...this must be love,  
'cause it's really got a hold on me..."

Optimus looked down again, holding her in his fierce gaze. Their faces clenched as they cried out against each other's mouths. Optimus' overload lasted just slightly longer than Mikaela's orgasm. The swirl of him she felt the first time reappeared--all his love, longing, fears and dreams rushing through her in rainbow waves.

He...loved her...and she swore she sensed him feeling that she loved him back. There was no denying it anymore--she did love him in a way no words could ever hope to explain.

Then it was gone, retreating back behind his guarded Spark chamber doors.

Mikaela cupped Optimus' face, her breath fogging his mouth plates while the after effects left him quivering and precious in her hands. He didn't offline this time, but he came close enough that she slipped off his waist so they wouldn't both fall. She let her forehead rest on his chin and closed her eyes. The music continued on the very edge of her consciousness--she heard it, but hardly registered its presence as it slowly faded out to silence. Bumblebee _had_ to be rubbing off on him.

"What does 'I love you' sound like in your language?"

Optimus blinked slowly and made the same noise she heard when she grabbed his antennae. It was almost musical.

"It almost sounds like singing...our language must be so boring and simple compared to yours..."

"No," Optimus raised her chin so their eyes met. He spoke against her lips, "My language structure is nothing like yours. We have no equivalent for wonderful turns of phrase like..." He caressed her lips and recited Shakespeare, "_But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief, that thou, her maid, art far more fair than she_..."

It would've been corny had anyone else tried that. Did Optimus realize he was actually a very convincing Romeo?

"I didn't know you liked Shakespeare." Recovered now, she cracked a half-smile. "You're full of surprises."

"So are you," he said, his voice as close to breathless as someone who didn't have lungs could sound. "So are you."

Mikaela's heart simultaneously soared and crashed.

.o

Five uneventful days drifted by. Mikaela had two papers and a presentation at school, all three of which kept her too busy to socialize much with her rather odd group of friends. In all honesty she welcomed the distraction. Anything to avoid thinking about Sam or Optimus.

Of course, it was hard to completely forget when her boyfriend's Camaro was of the same race as the Autobot leader.

"Hey, Mikaela!"

Mikaela wiped her dark hair off her face. The guilt she'd been struggling to bury battered against her mental walls. It always went this way--she found a guy she liked, then another equally wonderful fellow came along and she ended up sleeping with one while dating the other.

Except, this time, she had true feelings for both...and one wasn't exactly _ordinary_.

She couldn't keep doing this, but breaking it off with one or the other would be almost impossible. Normally, she could dump someone and lose them in the school throng. Ignoring their phone calls and emails, pretending not to hear them call her name and making up elaborate excuses about why when confronted were all part of the pattern. This situation was different. She saw these people practically every day.

Optimus certainly made no attempts to discuss their behavior with anyone. That made things a bit easier. She didn't need to worry about strange questions greeting her while Sam stood in earshot. She was sure Optimus would understand and respect the change in their relationship--the real problem was _her_ feelings about _him_. They'd be there like a super volcano itching for an eruption every time they were in the same area.

And if she broke up with Sam, he'd be in her shoes...and maybe hurt even more because he got dumped for someone who wasn't even human.

Catch twenty-two, regardless, and thinking about it made her brain hurt. Why were sex and love so complicated?

"Mikaela?"

"Sorry?" Mikaela jammed her thoughts under her mental bed and greeted Sam with a smile. "Sorry...just had a lot on my mind. I have a test next period." The lie tasted bitter, but she couldn't think of anything else to say. "How's your stomach? And how'd your Algebra test go?"

"My stomach's fine. The Algebra..." Sam made a pleading gesture at the sky. His boyish features were slightly drawn because of the sickness he only recently recovered from. "I think I did okay...how'd your science presentation go?"

"It was great," she grinned with pride at the way her teacher admired the model of a water molecule she made out of spare parts from the warehouse. "I was nervous, but it went great. Don't you hate those things, though?"

He chuckled, nodded and bit into his hamburger. "I still can't believe our friends..." He looked around before continuing in a whisper, "...have sex. Okay, Doctor R and Trigger Happy I can sort of imagine. But the Boss? Or even...Bee?"

Chomp. It was like ketchup on a canker sore. Mikaela scrunched her lips while nibbling on a French fry.

They had code words for each Autobot. Optimus was 'the Boss', Ratchet was 'Doctor R', Ironhide was 'Trigger Happy', Bumblebee was just 'Bee' and, on the rare occasions they mentioned Jazz, they called him 'the Dancing Machine'. The word combinations sounded enough like screen names that prying ears wouldn't suspect who they were really talking about.

"The Boss has done it before." Mikaela said. "I think 'Bee is still their equivalent of a virgin."

Sam's expression grew less serious. Joking around was one of the many ways he dealt with a difficult situation. "Yeah, but can you picture it? He's like...I dunno...it's like trying to think about my dad doing it...or, in Bee's case, a brother."

Flashes of Optimus' face clenching in release swirled through Mikaela's mind. She pushed them away and wished Sam would drop the subject.

"Speaking of the Boss..." Sam bumped his shoulder against hers and the heaviness inside her shifted like sand bags. "You two look like you're getting pretty tight."

Sam hadn't mastered the art of reading Optimus' more subtle facial expressions. Smiles and frowns were pretty obvious from the get-go, but things like lust, worry and sadness took slightly longer. If Sam knew how to read Optimus as well as she did, he'd see the painfully clear truth. Mikaela didn't know whether to feel grateful or lament his ignorance.

"Mm." She forced herself to swallow through the lump in her throat. "Well, the Boss has been through a lot since he land--" someone walked by and she quickly switched to more coded words, "--_moved_ here. We chat a lot...sometimes I do all the talking and sometimes he has a lot to say. He's really just a regular guy if you look past his being so _tall_."

"Yeah? Huh...he doesn't seem all that talkative with me. If he isn't on duty when I get there, I'll usually spot him sitting in the doorway. We say hi, he exchanges info with 'Bee and I try not to get flattened."

Her mind drifted to the night the Autobots accidentally trashed Sam's back yard. She replayed the same scene in the warehouse--complete with his eyes growing huge--and had to stifle a giggle. Sam's goofiness was just one of the reasons she liked him so much.

"Has Doctor R polished away the scratches yet?"

"Huh? Yeah. Cussed up a storm doing it too." Sam shook his head, "Speaking of the Boss--am I going nuts, or is he freezing in the middle of sentences?"

"You noticed it, too?"

"Yeah. I stopped by yesterday to drop off some gasoline and he took forever to change and stand up. I asked him if anything was up and he got stuck right in the middle of answering me. And lately he's had the shakes like those old men with that disease that makes their hands jiggle--"

"Parkinson's disease?"

"--yeah, like that." Sam frowned, "What's wrong with him, Mikaela? Any ideas?"

Mikaela tried not to let Sam see how worried she felt. What if making love with him somehow aggravated an invisible injury he sustained when he rolled? She shrugged, forcing herself to eat the last bite of her cheeseburger. Doing so made her duck her head, which meant she avoided the salad flung across the cafeteria. Sam jumped up as Ranch dressing splattered across his gray hoodie.

"What the hell? Yuck!" He grabbed a napkin, sneered and tried to sop the viscous contents off his clothing.

"Loser!" Trent yelled. His football buddies snickered.

Mikaela's stomach felt suddenly hot. She shot Trent a disgusted look that could melt bricks. "Get a thicker helmet, Trent. The one you're using obviously isn't protecting the three neurons you still have."

The jock snarled, though it didn't scare her. "You dumped me for a fag with a Camaro!"

She smirked at his wry grin. "If only you knew."

"If only I knew what?"

Images of Bumblebee picking Trent up by the shirt and holding him till he wet his pants in fright danced through Mikaela's head.

"If only you knew Sam's car helped save the world," she muttered under her breath.

Sam snickered. Mikaela was grateful he didn't retaliate and get himself in trouble. Trent always backed him into corners that way--and ever since he got bailed out of jail he'd been twice as nasty towards Sam.

Fortunately, the bell rescued them from further altercations.

"Mikaela!"

She faced Sam.

"You coming with me to the hideout?"

"Hideout" was their secret word for the warehouse.

Mikaela waved the affirmative, blew him a kiss and hurried off to her history class.

.o

"I'm right on time to take guard duty," Bumblebee announced upon arriving at the warehouse. Ratchet and Ironhide were nowhere to be seen at the moment.

"You aren't going to chat with Optimus?" Sam asked.

"I will when Ironhide relieves me," Bumblebee replied brightly. "And Sam? Don't forget your father's Preparation H."

Sam's face turned bright red. "Bee! Not in public! And you're supposed to remind me on the way home!"

Mikaela giggled, "Be glad it isn't Ratchet. You'd get a full lesson on how to use it."

"Ugh." He wrinkled his nose.

They climbed out into the warm afternoon sun. Mikaela spotted Optimus' long red and blue legs stretching out across one of the main warehouse doorways. She waved and he lifted a hand in response.

"Hey, Sam, why don't you try talking to Optimus right now? I'll go see if I can find Ratchet and Ironhide."

Sam leaned over and kissed her cheek. His lips were like silk on her skin and spread warmth through her face. "Okay." He jogged towards Optimus' outstretched legs. "Hey, Optimus! 'Sup?"

The Autobot leader's deep voice replied, "What's up? Well, the sky for one..."

The rest of what he said faded with distance as Mikaela made her way around the warehouse. The doors faced east and the area just south of them was a huge field of dry brush and tall grass. A main street ran alongside the warehouse, but low hills, bushes and trees concealed most of the field from view. Someone had to actually pull into the warehouse parking lot to see it. Hence the Autobots choosing this location--it proved a most ideal hideout that worked with their vehicular disguises.

Two sets of tire tracks flattened the thick brush. She spotted Ironhide's black form arching up out of the grass. Ratchet _clung_ to his waist. Their chest armor was wide open and Mikaela clearly saw their joined Sparks sending surges of electricity back and forth like arcing power lines.

"Ooh...we have an audience," Ratchet purred in a tone Mikaela never heard him use before. Then he looked directly at her and _winked_.

"Let 'em stare," Ironhide growled and roughly shoved the CMO back to the ground. "Let 'em see how much I..."

"How much you what?"

Even rough, battered Ironhide proved himself capable of becoming beautiful. The way he looked down at Ratchet with such need and devotion gave Mikaela goosebumps. Ratchet mirrored his expression, his optics falling half shut and his mouth plates shifting subtly into a smile.

Mikaela remembered how Optimus looked at her exactly the same way right before he overloaded.

Ratchet grabbed a wire under Ironhide's left arm. Ironhide rocked back, mouth agape, and his cannons whirled faster than Mikaela thought possible. His spark appeared to literally swallow Ratchet's--which instantly made Ratchet's sirens howl while his body shivered as if electrocuted. Their mouth plates came into contact and sparks flew...sparks so large they were visible in broad daylight.

"Oof!" Ironhide grunted, clearly satisfied with both himself and the havoc he wreaked on his lover. He looked down at Ratchet with something Mikaela could only describe as a shit-eating grin. "Heh, heh, offlined again."

"Unnnh..." Ratchet rubbed his own cheek. Smoke puffed off his joints. "Ooh, Ironhide, you're _good_..."

"Damn right I am. Don't act all modest...you know you have my coolant working overtime."

"You were due to have it cycled anyway," Ratchet said, using the lowest register of his voice. He thumbed one of the many scars marring Ironhide's face. "C'mere, you."

Their metal lips met again. Ironhide pawed at Ratchet's chassis and finally poked his thick fingertips into a space just above his codpiece. Ratchet gave a shout and his engine sputtered without catching. Ironhide's fingers were probably fiddling with his ignition switch...and judging by the reaction he got it felt insanely good.

__

That must be the plugging thing Ironhide brought up. Mikaela thought. Telling herself she'd seen enough, she turned away to give them their privacy. She slowly made her way into the warehouse where Optimus and Sam were discussing, of all things, life after death.

"...we call it Heaven." Sam was saying from his location on the other side of Optimus' legs. "Your turn."

Ratchet's siren went off again. First a wail, then a few yelp cycles and back to the wail before cutting out completely.

"Sam," Optimus arched a brow without missing a beat, "My people don't really concern ourselves with what happens when our Sparks are extinguished."

"You don't believe in it?" the boy's eyebrows knit together, wrinkling his forehead.

Optimus raised his shoulders in a very human shrug, "I wouldn't say _that_." But when he spoke, his eyes were dim, sad, something Sam didn't pick up on at all. "I suspect it is oblivion. Or, as you humans sometimes say, 'game over.' There's nothing to fear when there won't be anything _to_ feel afraid. If I'm wrong, I'll be pleasantly surprised."

The subject of death clearly made Optimus uncomfortable. He often toiled secretly over Megatron's fate and the idea that his lover simply _ended_ didn't sit well with him.

Mikaela saw fit to intervene. "But _Heaven_ by Bryan Adams is a pretty nice song."

Those brilliant blue optics fixed on her and immediately lost their sadness, "Mikaela! There you are."

"Here I am," she replied. _Okay, this is awkward_... "Um...how's it going?"

"Fine," Optimus answered, "Sam and I were just discussing--"

"I heard the tail end of it." She said quickly, stepping aside when Ironhide ducked through the door. He still wore a decidedly smug grin.

The conversation died. Sam and Optimus just didn't have enough in common to talk for hours and hours. They couldn't get personal because they had no similar experiences to discuss. Sam, though smart, had lived a sheltered life. He was like a baby's hand versus the callused hand of a warrior.

Optimus frowned and folded his hands in his lap. Every few seconds, he appeared to shudder like Mojo. Sam wasn't kidding when he said he had the shakes.

"Optimus?"

He refocused on her.

"Has Ratchet checked that out?" She pointed to his juddering hand.

"Uh..."

Ratchet wobbled in like a drunk, noticed Optimus trembling and answered for him, "He rattled his processors when you two rolled over on the road! It's a common symptom. It'll go away. Didn't Sam tell you?"

Mikaela looked over at Sam, whose head sunk into his shoulders, "I-I was about to when Trent mistook me for the trash can."

"This Trent is a major annoyance to you. I can always scare him," Ironhide planted his hands on his hips.

"Um...no thanks..." Sam stammered, backing away in a failed attempt to appear nonchalant. "I-I can handle him."

Shaking her head, Mikaela walked across the floor and climbed onto the pile of crates beside Optimus' shoulder. She badly wanted to discuss what happened between them, but didn't dare breathe a word of it with Sam in earshot.

"Man, what a day."

"Mikaela," Optimus regarded her with his usual, gentle smile. He immediately focused his gaze on her face and tipped his head slightly in her direction. "Good afternoon. How was your science project presentation?"

"Huh? Oh, it was awesome. Thanks for suggesting the bolts." She sat with her legs dangling off the crate and mirrored his expression, "My teacher loved that."

"What did--"

He froze with his mouth still open to form the next word in his sentence. It might have been comical if the freezing wasn't so worrisome.

Mikaela swallowed through her suddenly hot throat. "Ratchet, he froze!"

"Slaggit," the medic grumbled, making his way over. Optimus blinked out of his funk and jerked in surprise at the sight of Ratchet standing over him. Naturally he would...Mikaela suspected that, to him, Ratchet merely zapped into existence. Ratchet narrowed his optics at Optimus, "The fall might have cracked your CPU pins. Retract your helm, I want to test your connections."

"Ratchet--"

"If you don't, I'll make you, and you don't like it when I have to make you do anything."

Leaning forward with a simulated sigh, Optimus retracted his helm and Mikaela saw more of him than she ever thought she'd see. She couldn't avoid wincing when Ratchet lifted a panel and poked around inside.

"Geez, doesn't that hurt?"

Optimus turned his head slightly, "No worse than stubbing your--OW!"

"Hold still!" Ratchet growled. His left optic rotated and clicked like a camera shutter. He studied Optimus' head for several minutes before he let him slide his helm back into place. "Nothing beyond the usual wear and tear. Still, I want to perform a more thorough examination before the day is out. You're off guard duty until I say so--and don't give me any of your 'but I'm the leader' garbage. You're the leader," he pointed to his own chest, "but I'm the medic and I can disable your motor functions. _Right_, Ironhide?"

"Leave me out of this!" Ironhide replied from across the warehouse. Mikaela noticed Sam trying to explain _Halo_ to him. He leaned over, his scarred face pinched in a curious frown while Sam showed him pictures from a game magazine.

Ratchet backed off. Optimus looked mildly indignant. In fact, for a split second he stuck his bottom mouth plate out in a an annoyed pout. Maybe he considered his medic ordering him around embarrassing. His gaze followed Ratchet when he headed straight for Ironhide. Mikaela heard them whispering about Barricade.

"Um...wow," Mikaela couldn't believe Ratchet talked to Optimus that way. "You let him get away with it?"

"He's been rather--grouchy--since we lost Jazz. Ratchet is the best medic I know. He's talented and I trust him with my Spark," said Optimus. He rested his hand on the crate and Mikaela casually leaned against his index finger. "Ratchet is a lot more empathetic than he lets on. One rule of thumb with him is this--if he's grousing, the situation isn't all that serious. However, when the attitude falls away and he starts giving orders...that is when you worry. And if that ever happens, Mikaela, always do exactly what he tells you. Seconds _matter_, never waste them with questions."

"Gotcha," she nodded. It wasn't until she finished speaking that she realized she'd been rubbing her fingers back and forth against the edge of his fingertip. His hands were stainless steel, same as her refrigerator door at home, but nowhere near as cold. It seemed like they always ended up touching whenever they talked.

"You're wearing red," he noted, and his pupils flickered as an indication to exactly what the color made him remember.

Mikaela glanced down at the oversized red and black flannel shirt, which she wore unbuttoned over a gray tank top. Then she refocused on Optimus' face, "This old thing? It's my dad's."

"I'm sure he would be honored that you're borrowing one of his parts."

She chuckled, "He has a ton more."

Optimus' hand trembled against the crate. Mikaela reached out in a failed attempt at steadying it. She heard his optics whirr and click. His eyelids blinked out of synch and he squinted as if the lights were suddenly too bright. The hand resting on the crate moved to cup the side of his head. His face plates tensed in a grimace and he looked like someone in the throes of a migraine.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"I'm just--unh--overclocked again." Optimus sat back against the wall. He moved in slow motion, a giant toy whose batteries were almost dead. Shivers raced over his metallic frame. "Mikaela, I think I'm going to--recharge for awhile. My apologies for being such poor company today."

"Oh, no, it's okay." She stood up and smiled to hide her concern, "You could use the rest."

"Wake me if there is any trouble."

Mikaela gave a mock salute. Optimus' eyelids snapped shut and all his systems hummed to silence. His intakes began to hiss and rattle, indicating he was soundly in sleep mode. Mikaela picked her way off the crates, pushing the button to close the giant door beside Optimus on her way down.

"...don't know where Starscream is or even if he's on Earth!"

"Ironhide," Ratchet folded his arms, "Barricade is my main concern. Even if Optimus says he took damage from that train...he is still out there."

Ironhide's mouth plates sharpened into a sneer, "He's the one who blew out my leg. My cannons itch to return the favor."

"You know Prime's orders."

"I'm sure he won't care if I 'accidentally' blew off one of Barricade's limbs."

"He most likely wants me." Bumblebee joined in via his com signal, which Ratchet was kind enough to put on speaker so all could hear. "I'm to blame for this...I didn't finish the job."

"Easy there, Bumblebee. You were following Prime's orders to meet up."

Stony silence from the Camaro outside. Ratchet scrunched his face and shook his head disdainfully.

Mikaela looked between them at Sam. Mention of Barricade made his face blanch. He licked his lips and met her eyes, his own huge and glistening in the harsh warehouse lights.

"Barricade chased you?"

Nodding, Mikaela stepped past Ironhide's legs and patted Sam's shoulder. "Optimus protected me."

"Yes, but Barricade is roaming out there, trying to locate our base of operations." Ratchet added. "Optimus says he may not know Megatron perished in the city."

"And I doubt Starscream told him before he bolted like the coward he is," growled Ironhide. He twirled his cannons and Sam's eyes flicked nervously over the giant barrels.

"Right now," Ratchet shifted his yellow body to glance at Optimus' slumbering form. "My main concern is Optimus."

"He is mourning his bondm--"

"No. I haven't been able to run a thorough enough exam on him. His central processor may be burning out. He has all the classic symptoms. I can give him Jazz's processor if that's the case." Ratchet crossed his arms. "The main issue is time."

"Won't he be mad about that?" asked Sam, "You're saying you're going to mess with his head while he's asleep?"

The medic looked down his nose, "Of course not! I'll ask him when he wakes up. Though, the way he is about medical procedures, dealing with him while he's recharging..."

"I'd love to see him put you in a headlock again," Ironhide snickered, and Ratchet responded with a human hand gesture he either learned off the internet or from other angry drivers.

"Shit!" Sam looked at his watch, "Oh, no, no, no!"

"What?" Mikaela faced him.

"I was supposed to be home twenty minutes ago to clean out the garage. Oh, man! I'm dead if I don't get out of here! I have to get out of here _yesterday_."

Mikaela made a good-natured face at his panic. At least it wasn't too serious. She kissed him by the ear, leaving a faint lipstick stain, and whispered, "Just tell your dad your girlfriend made you forget the time."

He smiled slowly at her. "You're the best, Mikaela. Want me to run you home real quick?"

"Nah. I don't want to make you later than you are."

"Right...bye!"

She watched Sam scramble outside and climb into Bumblebee.

"Ratchet, Ironhide, I'll be on alert. If I spot Barricade, I'll signal my location."

"Understood. Ratchet, out."

The yellow Camaro sped away in a spray of gravel. Mikaela couldn't avoid snickering at Sam's hasty exit. At the same time she felt a pinch of jealousy--she'd kill to have someone at home when she unlocked her front door. It was the main reason she stayed at the warehouse so late. So she didn't have to spend the afternoon cruising or alone.

"Optimus stopped rattling," Ironhide noted.

"Leave him alone."

Mikaela glanced at the Autobot leader. He leaned slightly to the side like a marionette. She noticed he was the only Autobot who actually closed his eyelids when he recharged. Ironhide somehow kept one optic online and Ratchet tended to stare off into space until his optics darkened.

"Actually," Ratchet focused his optics on Optimus, "Now might be the best time to--"

"Ironhide, Ratchet! This is Bumblebee!"

Ironhide's optics flared, "This is Ironhide."

The panic left Bumblebee's voice. "Barricade ambushed me. Sam is all right. I repeat, Sam is _safe_. Requesting backup. My location is..." And he rattled off a long list of numbers too fast for Mikaela to decipher.

"Keep him on the move. We're on our way." Ironhide's fingers twitched despite his calm tone. Shadows swirled across his rough, angry face and narrowed eyes. "Prime! We have a situation!"

Everyone looked at Optimus, but he didn't stir. Not a twitch.

"Optimus!" Ironhide called, "Sir!"

"Ironhide! Go help Bumblebee! I'll sort Optimus' aft out. And," Ratchet grabbed Ironhide's arm, leveling their optics, "Be careful..."

Ironhide pressed his hand to Ratchet's cheek. Then he folded himself into vehicle mode and peeled out of the warehouse. Smoke from his tires sent burnt rubber smells wafting in his wake. Mikaela watched his red tail lights shrink out of view.

"Optimus! You blew out your processor, didn't you?" Ratchet snapped, "You should've let me repair you the minute you got back!" He stomped over to his motionless leader and grabbed his shoulder, shaking him, "Get online!"

No response.

Ratchet tapped his index finger against the armor protecting Optimus' Spark chamber. The hinged piece moved easily. The medic's optics widened marginally. He repeated the motion and got the same result--nothing.

Mikaela tip-toed closer, both hands pressed to her chest in a failed attempt at controlling her racing heart. "What's wrong?"

"Even the heaviest off liners will jerk their hands up to protect their Spark if you touch anywhere near it. It's a reflex."

Ratchet touched Optimus' Spark chamber doors and Optimus never flinched. He went about tapping other parts of Optimus' body--his eyelids, his antennae and even the sensitive wires in his neck. Optimus never responded. He just sat there, his head thrown far back to expose his wiring and vocal apparatus.

The CMO's face went deadpan. "This is _bad_, Mikaela." He squatted and spoke to his radio, "Ratchet to Ironhide."

Static, followed by laser fire, "Ironhide here. Status!"

"Optimus is in stasis lock. I don't know what's wrong, but I must attend him immediately. You and Bumblebee are on your own."

Ironhide snorted, "That's just peachy ain't it? Dammit, Barricade is a slippery motherf--" more laser fire. "Can't talk now! Ironhide, out!"

"Optimus," Mikaela whispered. "Ratchet, what's wrong with him?"

"I'll find out." Ratciet said. He hadn't snapped at her--his voice went from grousing to soft, serious. He dragged Optimus' limp frame to the middle of the floor, laid him on his back and spread his arms out to either side. "Mikaela, I need your smaller hands. Check Optimus' electrical system while I scan his motherboards. This is either an electrical failure or a blown chip. Tape any broken wires."

"Gotcha."

She watched Ratchet separate Optimus' chest plates and lift the entire panel underneath up. It was the most up close view of his guts she'd ever seen. The mechanic in her quickly went about identifying his engine parts. It wasn't easy because transforming shifted everything around. Fortunately, the core of his motor was still the same shape--all the pistons, the crankshaft and his intakes were in their proper places. She checked his distributor caps, the carburetor and his intake manifolds. They were clear. She bent close and examined his engine wiring for any breaks or fraying, but found none. His battery, which had been displaced to lie directly underneath his Spark chamber, seemed drained. Other than that she couldn't see anything wrong.

"Ratchet, does his Spark charge the battery?"

"Yes."

"Okay. His engines and wires are fine." Mikaela stood up and used the flaps of her flannel shirt to wipe engine grease off her hands. She gazed worriedly at Optimus' calm face. He still looked just as peaceful as he did when he settled down to rest.

"Then it's bound to be a processor glitch. Let's see if I can zap him awake with my own energy. Here, you don't want to be touching him when I do this." Ratchet offered his hand as a platform. Mikaela climbed on and let him help her to the ground. His dead seriousness worried her more than anything.

Ratchet connected a wire in his arm to the battery in Optimus' chest like jumper cables. Nothing seemed to happen until Mikaela noticed Optimus' optics faintly flickering.

"C'mon, Optimus," the medic whispered, "Why can't I get you online?"

The blood drained from Mikaela's face. Freezing, being unable to boot up...just like her laptop when...

"Ratchet! Check his software!"

"Huh?"

She wrung her hands, "Last week, my laptop caught a virus. Optimus fixed it and went to the same website where I got it. He's--he's been freezing up just like my laptop was. He started having freezes before we rolled...he didn't want me to tell you. But it's been going on for days."

"Virus? Impossible! Our software is too sophisticated for--"

"Check him, Ratchet, please!" Mikaela pressed her hands together so they wouldn't shake, "Is there a way to look at his software?"

Nodding, Ratchet pushed Optimus' chest components shut. He placed two fingers inside Optimus' open helm and the Autobot leader's optics popped open. Like when they first met, lasers issued forth and spread out into a holographic display. Bright purple Cybertronian glyphs formed a huge three dimensional cube. Amidst them, planted like mines, ones and zeroes lit up bright red.

"This is impossible," Ratchet blinked, "it...polymorphed its way through his transformation subroutines. No wonder he can't start up. His processors are jammed with garbage data. The sneaky thing reproduced a hundred times each time Optimus transformed. His processors are frozen."

To Mikaela, Ratchet's words were a hammer falling on her heart. She felt the pieces smash through her stomach. "Anything you can do?"

"First, I'm going to see if he can talk to us. I need to know if his sensory systems are online." Ratchet gazed down at her, "He may be able to hear us."

__

And he's probably terrified, Mikaela noted. This was Optimus' greatest fear--helplessness.

"Ratchet! Report!" Ironhide's voice broke the silence.

"It's a virus, Ironhide."

"You're full of exhaust!"

"I'm not joking," Ratchet said without snapping. "Optimus is critical. You're on your own. Casualties?"

"...none. We're on Barricade's aft. Bumblebee wants to find out where he's been hiding."

"Okay. I have to get to work. Ratchet, out--Mikaela, please back away. You've done all you can."

Mikaela obediently climbed onto a nearby crate and struggled against the tears stinging the edges of her tear ducts. Crying wouldn't help anybody, but she couldn't bear the idea of fate making the decision of who she should love for her. She watched, helplessly, as Ratchet cleared the holographic field and more Cybertronian glyphs scrolled into view.

"Optimus has no sensory input or output. The garbage data was masquerading as a data stream from the world wide web--he didn't know its true cause until he offlined. And--" Ratchet paused, "He says to tell you it will be okay, that he isn't in pain."

More glyphs appeared. They were random, garbled. Then the "screen" faded away.

Ratchet immediately leaned over Optimus and forced his Spark chamber doors open. Optimus' Spark was half its normal size and so translucent Mikaela could see the circuitry underneath. Its pulses became more and more irregular. Zap-zap...zap-zap-zap...zap...zap-zap-zap-zap...just like a heart arrhythmia.

"He's losing voltage!" Ratchet cried. "I need power!"

"The generator," Mikaela pointed, "We used it during the storm!"

He sprinted across the warehouse and ripped the electric generator off the floor. Wires dangled from it as he carried it back.

Suddenly, Optimus' optics flared and dimmed until his they became two lifeless black holes staring at the ceiling.

"_Optimus!_" Mikaela launched herself onto Optimus' chest. She peered into his Spark chamber and the coldest horror she ever felt clenched her throat. "Ratchet--his Spark! It's _gone!_"


	3. Chapter 3

"Mikaela, I need you!"

"How?" She gasped, fighting the panic demons dancing in her ribcage.

Ratchet thrust electrical tape and wiring from the generator at her. He'd already stripped the insulation. "Connect this to my jumper cables! Hurry!"

Shaking, Mikaela used the electrical tape to marry the cables to the alligator clips attached to Ratchet's forearm. A quick job that took no more than ten seconds. "Okay!"

"Get on a crate! Don't let any part of your body touch the floor."

She did so. Her stomach turned flips and tied in knots.

Ratchet connected the jumper clips to the top and bottom of Optimus' Spark chamber. Mikaela heard the generator hum. Suddenly, sparks flew and Optimus' body arched in spasms. The charge made his eyes glow, popped his mouth open and caused his vocal processor to make groaning noises no living being ever wanted to hear. Mikaela winced even though she knew he couldn't feel it.

"C'mon, Optimus!" the medic drew back. "No Spark! Slaggit, Optimus!"

He delivered another shock and Mikaela saw miniature lightning bolts leap off Optimus' body. The smell of burnt circuitry and hot rubber permeated the air.

Ratchet blinked rapidly. His eyes were moist, desperate. He adjusted the clips and sent another round of electricity to Optimus' Spark chamber. "Please, not like Jazz. Please, Optimus..."

All Mikaela could think about were images of Optimus from the night Barricade attacked. Him, playing an air guitar and laughing. His arms becoming a soothing barrier between the past and present. The way he looked at her the afternoon they made love. He was so _alive_ and now...in a heartbeat...he dangled by his fingertips in a void between life and death. She couldn't even offer her own hand to pull him out--helpless! She was helpless! It couldn't end this way!

"Optimus..." Whimpered Mikaela. The balled pain in her chest swelled to her throat and leaked freely down her cheeks. Stinging hot tears blurred everything into swirls of color and shadow. This couldn't be real!

Ratchet delivered six more shocks. Six violent, convulsive, smoking waves of pure high voltage that did absolutely nothing.

Mikaela huddled on the crate, waiting for the inevitable.

"...I have something!" Ratchet bent over Optimus' Spark chamber. His grave tone dissolved into elation. "I have a charge! He's still with us. He's alive...Mikaela, he's alive!"

His words were a bullet moving through sludge. Mikaela lifted her head, blinked and tried to make sense of them over her overwhelming grief, "What?"

The yellow CMO passed a gentler charge to Optimus' Spark chamber and the soft white glow gradually solidified into a pulsing electrical ball. Optimus remained unresponsive. Still, his Spark was back--he could survive anything as long as he had his Spark.

"What..." She struggled to grasp words in her muddled state. "What happened?"

Ratchet disconnected the alligator clips, slid Optimus' helm shut and laid a hand across his brow. "The virus attacked his Spark. I--almost killed him trying to online him by force. Good catch, Mikaela. You saved his life."

"You're the one holding the cables," she breathed.

"You made the discovery."

Mikaela pressed two fingers to her temples and rubbed them in small circles.

"How can a computer virus attack your Sparks? I thought they were--"

"Sparks contain data in energy form. Only medics are equipped to read them. A safety protocol more than anything. Every Spark contains the core of our personalities. They are what make us individuals. This just thinks," he tapped the side of his head. "It isn't want we are. Besides, you can animate a dead mech if you have a strong enough battery..."

"But they'd be like a vegetable, right? Not thinking, just reflexes?"

"Correct. Though, sometimes..." He simulated a sigh, "...a dead mech may have power run through their systems so their eyes still glow. We only do this in the event their friends or bond mate weren't present when they died. Like Bumblebee, for instance. I lit Jazz up for him and he found closure. I think it hurts him less only because they weren't bonded."

Mikaela shuddered. The panic she felt threatened to return. She didn't want to think about death anymore.

"Mikaela," Ratchet softened his voice, "Breathe, Mikaela. Your cortisol levels are elevated. Take deep breaths." Then he picked her up in his hands and everything inside her broke. She sobbed while he rubbed her back with his thumb, his touch as soft and gentle as Optimus'. "It's all right. Shh... Mikaela...I need the uniform resource location of this alleged website."

"You'll catch the--"

"I'll use a firewall."

Not convinced, but knowing Ratchet needed the information, Mikaela gave him the web address. His optics flickered and produced a holographic "screen" that allowed Mikaela to see the page. She watched him scan it thoroughly. When he got to the broken images, he stopped.

"There. Ah-ha! I see why it got past Optimus' security systems." Ratchet scrunched his face in disgust. Red lines appeared as he analyzed the viral coding. "The virus is built from human data--but it has a Decepticon make. Simplicity...the infection is so simple it slipped right past everything and turned every single executable program in his mainframe into a ticking bomb. His software never even noticed it was compromised. The best news of all is getting rid of it will be easy. I'll have Optimus up and running again by morning."

Mikaela frowned. Now that the shock was mostly over, she found her rational mind returning. If she could just stop shaking she'd be fine. "Why would the Decepticons leave a virus-infected website lying around?"

"Because they're sore losers," grumbled the CMO. "And many humans visit this website for science projects like the one you recently presented for your classmates. It's remarkable we haven't all been infected--many science websites link to this address, which puts millions of computers at risk. All Optimus had to do was view the site and he was infected. It's trying to infect me right now, but I have it blocked."

"Everybody in my science class probably has it on their computer," groaned Mikaela. "I wonder if I should send a mass email warning everybody."

"Good idea." Ratchet squinted at her. "Broken images...it's the perfect disguise. No one would pay them any mind and simply assume they caught the virus off one of the ads. To you, the infection is a mere annoyance. To us? A slow death. We are very fortunate the virus program is so simple. It's highly possible it's been hidden in broken images all over the internet." He tapped the side of his head, "Ratchet to Ironhide and Bumblebee."

"We hear you," Ironhide replied. He sounded downright chipper for a grouchy old cannon-wielding solder.

"I'm inoculating you with a small antivirus data string. Accept it as soon as you sense it in your databanks. It would seem the Decepticons decided to leave a parting shot. We almost lost Optimus."

"Frenzy's doing, no doubt." Bumblebee huffed, "How is Optimus right now?"

"He's a fraggin' mess! But I'll have him online by oh-five hundred. The cleanup is going to be brutally tedious. The virus did a number on his mainframe. Luckily his files and subroutines are intact...just overrun with garbage data. Wouldn't surprise me if his head ached with all the processor heat. Now, give me an update on _your_ status."

"We're a little shot up, but it's nothing serious." Bumblebee replied. "Barricade was hiding in a junkyard on the other side of town. I suspect he knew of the virus--we had to transform several times during the skirmish and he seemed rather upset when we didn't drop dead. He escaped into the city, where chasing him put humans in danger. We had to give up the pursuit."

"Understood. Head back to base."

"Right."

They gave their parting transmissions and the radio went silent.

Tension drained out of Ratchet's body. He eased to sit on the ground and set Mikaela down next to Optimus' legs. "Would you like me to take you home before I begin?"

Mikaela's response required no thought. "No...I'd like to be here when he wakes up."

He nodded. "Then I'll get to work. Sleep if you feel the need. I'll wake you up in time to see Optimus come back online."

Sleeping at six o'clock? It sounded like such a foreign concept at the moment...but Mikaela couldn't deny the exhaustion following her panic. She sat on the pile of bright blue tarps near the back wall. From there she saw the length of Optimus' body lying on the floor while Ratchet bent diligently over him with the caring eyes of a doctor. He placed Optimus' hands at his sides, pausing long enough to hold one before laying it across his chest. Every movement was gentle. Mikaela sleepily thought Ratchet resembled a father watching over a sleeping child.

"It's going to be all right, Optimus," Ratchet whispered.

Mikaela stretched out on her stomach with her head pillowed on her folded arms. She tried to shove the horrid events of the day out of her mind. It fit nicely next to the decision she still hadn't made regarding who to love. Did people even have control over who they loved?

Did Autobots?

.o

"Mikaela!"

"Hm?" She cracked an eye open. Chilly air blew in through the open warehouse doors. The lights were off, so the only illumination came from pale street lights and the brightening skyline just barely visible over Bumblebee's yellow shoulder.

"It's oh-four fifty two. Optimus' database is defragementing itself. He should be online in the next few minutes."

Groggily, Mikaela rubbed her eyes, "Wow, I don't remember falling asleep..."

"You snore," Ironhide bent over her. If she didn't know him--if she hadn't seen the loving way he looked at Ratchet in the field--she would have wet her pants at the sight of his huge, angry-looking face filling her view. His mouth and optics were tilted in a metallic smile. Behind him, Bumblebee stifled a rude snicker.

"I don't snore," she answered through the dry, cottony taste in her mouth. "C'mon, isn't Sleeping Beauty over there about to wake up?"

Ratchet carried her over to Optimus. He did nothing to deter her when she climbed onto Optimus' left chest plate and sat down to wait. She could hear the soft clicks of his Spark speed up as his electrical system sent power throughout his body.

"Come on now," Mikaela reached out and stroked the blue plate on Optimus' chin, "Wake up, Optimus."

Optimus' eyes flickered to life, blinked and focused first on Mikaela. He smiled at her in the same moment the sun's first light poured into the warehouse doors and outlined his face plates. Light shone in his optics, too, but it wasn't the sun. Everything Optimus was reached out to her through those twin pools of living azure.

"M-Mikaela..."

His voice cracked her down the middle.

"Optimus," Leaning over, Mikaela fought the desire to kiss the life right back out of him--size difference be-damned. She stared straight into his eyes and punched his chin instead. Like slugging a tank, but she didn't care. "_Never_ scare me like that again!" Then she clapped her throbbing hand over her eyes and desperately fought back the waves of emotion lashing her mental walls.

Optimus blinked at the blow and gently cupped his hand around her back. She reached up and grasped his thumb joint. Nothing compared to the relief of seeing him conscious again.

"I knew you had a mean left hook," he winked one eye shut and used his free hand to rub his jaw. "That actually _hurt_."

Mikaela made a face. "Sorry..."

"He sounds okay to me!" Bumblebee laughed and lightly punched Ironhide's arm.

"It's good to have you back, Optimus." Ironhide said in a composed tone. Then he "gently" slugged Bumblebee back and sent him crashing to the floor.

"Hey!" Ratchet snarled, "Don't go breaking each other! My old processors are fragged enough!" Then he turned back to Optimus and moved a finger before his optics, "Follow my finger."

Optimus performed beautifully. His optics moved in synch and focused without a single hiccup.

"Ratchet, I'm functioning at one hundred percent. Thank you."

"No. Thank Mikaela. She's the one who realized you had a virus in your mainframe."

Those stunningly beautiful blue optics shifted and Mikaela once again found herself falling into their depths. "Then it seems I owe both you and Sam my life."

Mikaela clung to the top of his chest armor. Maybe later, she'd personally tell him how glad she was that he made it through this alive. She ran a hand over her tangled hair and smiled instead, "Ah, it's fine. Your being all right is thanks enough. Ratchet did all the work."

Nodding, Optimus' attention moved off her and focused on the others. "What happened while I was offline?"

Bumblebee knelt--a movement oddly graceful for someone of his size--and spoke, "Barricade began to pursue me just as I passed the bridge a block from Sam's house. I immediately dropped Sam off and headed west--towards the areas of least population. At the bridge, we both transformed, which was the point where I radioed for assistance."

"It was a duck chase," Ironhide sneered.

"Goose chase, you mean?" Mikaela corrected him.

"Whatever! All I know is that slagger gave us the slip. He'd shoot us up, run, shoot us up..."

Ratchet calmly held up a hand, "Well, like I said before, he probably assumed you'd been infected by the virus and was attempting to hasten its effects."

"But he gave away his hideout--he'll use a different location now, I'm sure, but I know where he's likely to lurk," said Bumblebee. He nodded to himself and straightened, his big, blue eyes glimmering softly in the morning light.

Mikaela noticed Optimus didn't seem to hear a single word anybody said since they started talking. His body was here, but his mind looked miles away.

"Optimus?"

"I'm all right. Just...thinking." He dragged himself back to the present conversation, "I suppose we have to keep a closer watch outside. Barricade may be searching the parameter of the city for our hideout. I'll grant him one thing--he is a smart warrior and capable of catching any one of us off-guard. Now..." He scratched the side of his head, "Ratchet, when you have a moment, I need to speak with you alone."

Twenty minutes later, Mikaela walked into the bathroom in the back room while Optimus and Ratchet talked outside. She didn't _mean_ to eavesdrop...but they were unknowingly right outside the little window above the toilet, so she heard everything.

"Ratchet..." Optimus' low voice carried uncertainty, "Something strange happened to me."

"Are you still lagging?"

"No. No, no...I'm talking about while I had the virus. I...oh, how do I explain this? I experienced something...incredible. But--when I search my memory banks, I find no record of it. Yet..."

"What did you experience?"

"Lights. Dancing lights--"

"Ah! That's just the charge returning to your processors. Your Spark went out, you know. I had to jump you. Your whole system was electrified, including your visual, auditory and tactile processors."

"I--know, but--"

"Optimus, your body and Spark experienced severe trauma because of the Jumpers."

"I don't know about that, Ratchet. What I experienced...it was beautiful..." Optimus' voice took an awed tone, "I heard music. I felt--"

"Optimus, I'm _telling_ you--it's nothing remarkable. Remember the time I walked into power lines in Sam's back yard? I heard whistling noises and saw colored lights for a few seconds myself. Your motherboard received electric signals without your processor to make sense of them, so you saw lights and heard noises. It's normal."

"...for _hours_?"

"Bah! Hours?" the medic laughed, "Your Spark was likely out for no more than thirty seconds. You must be mistaking this experience with the time you spent trapped in stasis lock. _That_ lasted a few hours, yes."

"Then why do my memory banks contain no records of it?"

"Because you weren't conscious. You can't store data without your Spark. I thought you knew that."

"I...do." Optimus' voice dipped low in frustration.

"Get back on duty. That might take your mind off this nonsense."

Mikaela wanted to scream at Ratchet to let Optimus talk. But the CMO just wouldn't listen to anything Optimus had to say. She finally heard Optimus simulate a sigh and walk back towards the front of the base.

Finishing up, she washed her hands and met Optimus when he came around the corner. He was a glistening, moving spire in the cold morning glow, but he didn't seem to notice how pretty the horizon was.

"Are you okay, Optimus?"

Optimus immediately brightened. His form became blocky as he shape shifted into his vehicular form. "I feel wonderful, Mikaela. Much better than I have in the past week." He popped his passenger side door open for her. She gratefully climbed into his warm interior.

"I..." she blushed and pulled the door shut, "...kinda overheard you and Ratchet. You were right outside the bathroom."

"Oh?"

"What did you see?"

"It was so peaceful...the light and the dark." Optimus' hologram materialized in the driver's seat. His eyes were haunted. "Energy..." He simulated another sigh and rubbed a finger over the bridge of his nose. For a moment Mikaela thought he might punch his own steering wheel. "Nevermind...I don't wish to discuss it."

"It's okay." Mikaela didn't fight her burning desire to lean over and embrace him. Confusion about love be-damned, she needed to hug him. "You scared me, Optimus...I thought I was watching you die."

"Mikaela," Optimus eased her fully into the seat with him and brushed his mouth against her forehead, which sent fresh tears streaming down her cheeks. "I'm still here, Mikaela. Shh, oh, don't cry, it's all right now. I'm going to be fine."

She clung to his chest plates and hated herself for crying so much in front of him. "I thought...I thought what we did made your condition worse. I thought I killed you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry..."

"Shh," he stroked her hair, "Mikaela, look at me."

Looking into his optics hurt in ways she couldn't explain

"You didn't do _anything_ wrong. If anything it's my fault for not listening when you said I was freezing." He rubbed his thumb across her cheek, wiping away her tears, "And for that I am sincerely sorry. So--uh...wait...do you have school today?"

"Not today. It's Saturday. Which is good. My mom has double shifts on Saturday, so I won't go home and have her scream at me for being out all night."

"She does it because she loves you and is worried."

"I know. But I hate listening to it."

"Oh...I think I understand that feeling." Optimus pointedly glanced towards the warehouse. "You've never seen Ratchet on a rampage."

"How will I know when to take cover?"

Optimus chuckled into her hair, "When tools start flying."

Mikaela giggled and let her cheek rest on his cool chest plating. She pondered loving him into overload--and just as quickly dismissed the thought. He could still be injured from the shocks Ratchet delivered...and she'd never forgive herself if she caused him undue damage.

But his lap was comfortable despite being made of metal. She'd sit in it forever if time and space allowed it. Sadly, they didn't. She pushed herself reluctantly back into the passenger seat and brushed a lock of hair off her forehead. "I really do need to go home. I need to shower, change my clothes and..." Her stomach rumbled, making her blush, "eat something."

"I will never get used to the odd sounds human bodies make." Optimus tipped his head back, smiled and chuckled. He always looked charming and open when he did that. "If you like, I can take you home."

Mikaela couldn't resist returning his smile. It really was remarkable how such a subtle change in his face could turn him from somber to almost angelic. And with a simple flicker of his eyes she saw how he felt about her and how she made him feel.

She made him _happy_...

.o

...too bad life couldn't grant her the same favor. The euphoric relief Mikaela felt when Optimus awoke evaporated the moment she stepped on her doorstep and watched him roll away.

__

I could always break it off with both of them and skip town. But I ran away twice last year...funny how I always end up crawling back to this house.

Taking a hot shower did little to quell the storm raging through her mind. Every wall seemed to have Optimus or Sam written on it in invisible ink. There was Optimus, who she could talk to about anything and not worry about being judged. Or there was Sam, who didn't treat her like the school slut and knew how to make her laugh. Why was it so hard?

"Dammit!" Mikaela tried to wipe away the shampoo that dripped hot daggers into her eyes. "Argh!"

The shower was a bust. Mikaela got out and started to dry off. The morning kept getting better and better--she found blood on the towel. Great. On top of everything else, she had to get her period. That explained why her lower pelvic region had been aching off and on. At least she didn't gush blood all over Optimus' passenger seat. Or worse...having Ratchet think she was hemorrhaging to death. She made a face and unwrapped a tampon.

Ten minutes later, her hair still wet, Mikaela headed into the kitchen to cook herself an omelet with ham and cheese in the center. It tasted great--mostly because she sat down to enjoy it and spent the entire time thinking of how she'd describe the textures to someone with no taste buds.

The phone rang. She grabbed it, "Hello?"

"Hey, Mikaela!"

"Oh, hi there, Sam!" Mikaela smiled at the ceiling, "What's up?"

"Nothin'. Just thinking about you. I heard last night was pretty scary."

"Mm...it was. But Optimus is okay. Are _you_ okay?"

He laughed, "I think I'm getting used to the weirdness. How are you?"

"Not feeling so good," this time she wasn't lying. The full effects of her glorious uterus were making themselves known in the worst way. She crossed her legs and bent forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "I probably need more sleep. I slept a little...but it feels like I didn't."

"Aw, Mikaela...you sure?"

"Yeah. Sorry...can I call you later?"

"Huh? Sure! I'm going to take Bee to the car wash. He splashed in mud or something and I need to wash it off. He complains that it itches."

__

If the car wash gets Bumblebee off...I'm so going to laugh at you, Mikaela thought to herself. "I'm sure he'll enjoy the car wash. Too bad we can't afford to send them all through."

She could hear Sam grinning on the other end, "Maybe someday we can surprise them. The Boss might be a bit harder. You might have to wash him by hand."

"We need to make a sign. 'Giant Robot Spa.'"

Sam shifted his phone around while he guffawed, "Decepticons will be acid washed."

Now Mikaela joined his mirth. She could imagine Sam lying across his bed, his feet up against the wall while he scratched Mojo behind the ears. She thought about how the short hairs on the back of his neck felt like velvet under her fingertips. How silky his lips were against her skin. His big, shiny blue-gray eyes and cute, pouty frown.

__

Cute always came to mind when she thought of Sam.

"Mikaela? You there?"

"Huh? Ah, sorry, yeah, I'm here."

"I wish I could come over. I'd put my arm around you and let you sleep on my shoulder if you want. Being sick sucks."

Mikaela almost blurted that she was on her period, not sick. Ratchet and his tendency towards too much info threatened to rub off on her more than once.

"Yeah. I should probably lay down for awhile."

"Okay. Feel better, Mikaela."

She smiled despite her heavy heart. "Thanks. Talk to you later."

"Buh-bye."

"Bye."

She hung up when he did and covered her eyes with one hand. Was it hormones or emotion that sent tears springing against her eyelashes? The constant feeling of her lower half trying to claw its way out through her intestines and tailbone made thinking almost impossible. Taking Midol didn't help at all.

Mikaela forgot her half-eaten breakfast on the table. She trudged upstairs to her comfortable pillow-top mattress with the royal blue covers and flopped facedown across its softness. On the nightstand was a framed photo of her father, whose steel blue eyes and wavy dark hair were the features she'd inherited. He had a mustache and a strong jaw--people always claimed it made him just like Sam Elliott. Mikaela agreed...and Sam Elliott _was_ a pretty good actor.

"I miss you, daddy," she whispered. Then she groaned and squirmed under the covers, not caring that her wet hair left streaks all over the pillow.

.o

It was dark out the next time Mikaela found her way back to the waking world. Her cell phone was ringing and the noise cut into her mind like a thousand jackhammers the size of sewing needles. She felt around her nightstand until she found the annoyance and dragged it up to her ear. "Hello?"

"Sam came by and mentioned you weren't feeling well. I thought I'd check on you." Optimus' voice purred through the line. No salutations, just right to the point.

Mikaela almost dropped the phone in shock. Optimus never made leisure calls like this! "Um...I'm--I'm all right. Heh, heh...wow...you're the last voice I expected to hear on my phone. Sorry if I sound a bit weird."

He chuckled, the sound rich like thunder and heat. "I missed our sunset chat. However, I won't keep you if you aren't feeling well. I did want to inform you that I sent you an electronic mail."

"Oh? Really?"

"Yes. I hope you'll be feeling better soon, Mikaela. Ratchet says hot water bottles are good for...er...dysmenorrheal pain."

__

Great, Ratchet can tell I'm going to have my period before I do. I bet he's a walking pregnancy test, too. Flushed, Mikaela let her head flop facedown into her pillow. She muffled, "Tell him he's not my gynecologist."

He chortled, "Duly noted."

She smiled and sat up to look out her window. The full moon looked like a cheese-ball rising over the palm trees across the street. "Are you outside right now?"

"I am, yes." And then, as if he read her mind, he went on, "The moon looks beautiful, doesn't it?"

They were looking at the same moon. Her, through filmy blue curtains and him...she imagined him standing outside the warehouse, a tall, jagged silhouette against the starry horizon. If she closed her eyes it was almost like sitting on his shoulder, watching it with him.

"Yeah," she said over the heat in her throat. "Did Cybertron have a moon?"

"No...but it did have a fantastic view of the galactic plane."

"You must miss it."

"Immensely, Mikaela." The truth in his voice _hurt_. He could adjust to Earth all he wanted, but he'd still miss his real home. "You soften the blow."

__

God, don't make it so hard, Optimus! "I'm...glad."

"Oh! Here I am prattling when you should be resting. Mikaela, I should let you go. Will you be all right?"

"Mmhmm." _No...not really_. "I'll read your email soon."

"Cool." Optimus' inner dork manifested itself in his sagely delivery of that simple word. He didn't notice and continued, "Good night."

"G'night, Optimus."

His line didn't click, it merely fell silent.

Mikaela wished her heart would do the same. Sometimes she wanted to throttle Optimus. Every time she thought she'd made her decision, he'd pop up and be _wonderful_, which stirred her feelings for him right back to the surface.

Groaning yet again, Mikaela reached for her laptop. Might as well read his email now. Maybe he sent her a corny E-card. She got to her inbox and smiled at his email address.

"I Need Mud Flaps at Yahoo dot com...geez, Optimus, you're a _dork_."

But her amusement didn't last long once she read the subject line. She knew immediately that the email was all about the topic he refused to discuss earlier.

Settling down on her stomach, she placed her finger on the down arrow and read.

__

From- OP ""

To- Mikaela ""

Subject- My experience

Dearest Mikaela,

I find it difficult to verbalize this...experience...I had. You might even say "you had to be there" to fully comprehend what I saw and felt.

I am not asking you to believe me. I am not asking you to judge. I simply ask that you read this. Something happened to me, Mikaela. Something profound with effects I do not fully understand. I wish to recount this experience and this is the only way I know how. Whether it was real, images created by the virus or the result of electricity rushing back into my processors...I can not say. The one thing I do know is what transpired was real to ME.

And the events occurred as follows...

I entered recharge mode with no idea I would be forced into stasis. All attempts to reboot my processors failed. My systems were completely locked and I could not activate beyond initializing my electrical system. I was not aware of the outside world, but still completely aware of myself and my helpless situation. I could not move, I couldn't even cry out for help. I can't say how long I remained this way because my chronometer doesn't boot up until after I activate my electrical systems. I knew then my problem wasn't physical, but in my software. The virus had been slowly filling my processors with garbage data.

Fear does not usually paralyze me. I never had time to think about fear and its effects. I always acted on it--faced its source. Helplessness has always been my greatest fear, as you well know. To be crippled, unable to save myself or those around me. It is a cold feeling, Mikaela. Colder than the iciest depths of the universe.

It seemed like hours before my mainframe came online--this must be the point you and Ratchet realized my malfunction was software-based and not a faulty processor. We communicated briefly, I clearly remember that.

Ratchet tried to "boot me up" as you humans call it. He accidentally sent more virus flooding into my electrical system. This system keeps my Spark burning.

I felt my own Spark go out. It's not uncommon for a mech to remain conscious for a few seconds after their Spark is extinguished. Just long enough for the residual charge in their wiring to decay.

I had a moment of hyper awareness. Everything I was filled the warehouse. Had I become the air itself? The walls? The ceiling? The floor? I saw everything--you, Ratchet, the spider building a web in the corner, my own body...I was lying on my back and both of my arms were spread out to the side. I could see into my own Spark chamber. It was dark, devoid of my essence, but I didn't care. The sense of detachment is difficult to describe. I wasn't concerned about my predicament. I simply watched, passively. I witnessed you and Ratchet converting the warehouse generator into a makeshift Spark Jumper. I saw myself convulse, but I felt none of the current delivered to my Spark chamber--and a sudden, high-voltage shock to the chamber is excruciatingly painful. Life-saving, but painful enough to feel even while offline.

I saw Ratchet jump me twice.

On the second shock, my reality went black. You wouldn't think blackness can get any darker than BLACK...yet this blackness did. It...vibrated...and I felt a tremendous force pulling me in all directions. Suddenly, I saw circuitry. It surrounded me. It was so dark and dismal, Mikaela, I felt so incredibly alone. Not afraid--just alone, and smaller than dust.

This is where my experience grows strange.

Something gives me the impression that I "blinked"--call it my mind taking a snapshot--and then, to my surprise, I beheld Earth in all its blue glory. I distinctly remember seeing it rise before me as a brilliant blue crescent that I only dimly recognized.

For a time I forgot I had ever lived--as far as I knew I had always been there, a particle of space dust floating several hundred miles above your world.

Again, I "blinked." Earth fell away. Perhaps I'm the one who suddenly shot off into the void. Hard to say because I had no sense of motion. Earth became a point of light no larger than a star. Odd as it sounds, the single speck of light...began to behave illogically like smoke. Undulating, curling, even dancing, and it changed colors as it moved. I found myself wanting to join it, to become that movement. I wanted this more and more the larger it grew. Its dance increased in speed, color and complexity, and created a fantastic chord in the silence. No music from any world can compare to the sound I heard. Incredible, like...like every vibration ever made in the universe condensed into a single, perfect note and I became the instrument responsible for the sound. I literally saw in sound and heard in color. I know that goes against logic, optics see and audios hear...but for that moment everything defied all universal laws. None of my senses where what they seemed.

I let myself melt into this light. Perhaps it became me, or I became it...there are no words to describe the feeling. I had no sense of myself. No optics, no arms, no legs, no body at all--there was just the light and sound all around. And I let it consume me.

A curl of this wondrous glow separated from the rest. It spiraled, grew, and the next time I "blinked" I was staring at Megatron.

Megatron, Mikaela...my beloved Bright Eyes whom I never thought I'd see again. His paint was fresh, his head crest unfurled and his smile as radiant as the light. I saw right through him. He was not solid, yet he touched me. How this is possible when I had no body is utterly illogical and beyond my comprehension.

I touched his face. Without hands, I touched the face of my love! He was as real to me as you are. As real as the hand I'm waving in front of my face while I compose this. He felt warm, smooth, ALIVE...

We loved in the light, Mikaela. We made love for hours. His kiss generated sparks larger than a supernova and created waves in the stillness. It was rapture, pure rapture, to lie in his arms again. He held my gaze with the patience of unimaginable time and spoke these cryptic words--

"Energy never vanishes. It changes."

Then he led me deeper into the glowing smoke and I saw a spiral galaxy much like the ones you see via your Hubble Space Telescope. Upon closer inspection, I realized this galaxy was made of Sparks. Every Spark--each one a person who had hopes, dreams and desires--belonged to those who died in the war.

How do I know this?

Jazz. Jazz was there. I don't know how I knew because I did not see him, though I sensed his presence somewhere in the throng. In fact, I sensed every Cybertronian who had ever lived. It is the strangest feeling to feel...everything.

Megatron led me to the center of the galaxy. There, complete but for the one tiny fragment it left behind as a reminder, was the Cube. It was tipped at an angle, rotating gently on one corner. Its presence bound the "galaxy" together like a magnet. Merely looking at it filled me with incredible knowledge. Uniting it with Megatron's Spark changed its form and purpose. The Cube transformed from a force from which all Sparks come to a metaphysical entity to which all Sparks return. It housed a being I only faintly perceived--something alive, aware and always watching with the most paternal care. All Cybertronians are its children. It loves us.

I wanted to join this cosmic understanding. I wanted to stay with Megatron and never leave his side again. But Megatron furled his crest and gazed down at me. Sadly, the first sadness I had seen since I arrived. His red optics surrounded me. He seemed suddenly immense and the galaxy of Sparks spun like an accretion disk in the lower corner of his left optic.

"Bright Eyes," I reached for him. Oh, how I yearned to melt into him! "Megatron..."

Megatron once again kissed me, filling me with his vast and undying love. With that kiss, my mate transformed back into smoke. I lost sight of the Allspark--better to write it as one word now--and the only sensation I felt was Megatron's nonexistent arms wrapping around shoulders I did not have.

I felt a downward pull. Megatron's hands or my own power, I can't be sure. He stunned me with the radiance of his usual, soft smile, "Optimus, I will never hate you for setting me free."

He sensed my question...he sensed what I was afraid to ask and answered it. And put me at ease. The pain of our war and separation floated away like a dying star's outer shell of gas. Peace rushed in to replace the pain. So...warm...the most intimate, gentle comfort came over me.

I "blinked" again, and saw Megatron's smile fading into the dark. He was smoke, but I still saw him smiling at me in the distance. The wonderful music I'd been a part of ceased playing, leaving me in complete silence.

"I love you!" I shouted, "My Bright Eyes, I love you!"

Over and over, I shouted into the void. I don't know if he heard me.

I fell all the way to Earth, and this time I experienced the full sensation of plummeting. The planet rushed up at me. Everything was a blur except for a square of central vision. I glimpsed myself sprawled on the warehouse floor a second before I slammed into my left cheek plate. I sank, but I was oddly buoyant, and slowly surfaced into the servo-jarring agony of being Spark Jumped. Oh, I was angry to be called back! So angry, confused and grieving for moments I'll never have again.

There it is. The full account of my experience. So real, so intense, and I can't find any sign of it in my memory chips. I've scanned them all and NOTHING. It...it frustrates me.

Please...do you think we can discuss this face to face? You are the only person who seems willing to listen to me as Optimus...as opposed to Prime. I need to be 'Optimus' right now.

Thank you for taking the time to read this gratuitously long electronic message. I'll be waiting for your response.

--Optimus


	4. Chapter 4

Mikaela's palms grew sticky-moist against her keyboard. She sat up and stared absently at the moon. Optimus was likely still outside, looking at it, too. She understood exactly where he was coming from more than anyone he knew.

Deciding she could put her own discomfort aside, she put her hands on the keyboard and sent a quick response.

__

Optimus,

Come NOW. Don't worry about me not feeling well. I'll be okay as long as I don't leave the house. Come to my place and let's talk. My mom won't be home until tomorrow night. We've got time.

See you soon.

Without waiting for a reply, she pulled on a pair of gray sweatpants, tied the draw string and hobbled downstairs to choke down three Ibuprofen pills. One of these days she'd get her sorry butt to the clinic near the school and buy herself birth control pills--they were probably the only thing capable of making her menses tolerable.

She passed the mirror on the hall, stopped and walked back. _Oh, God, I look like shit!_ Bags under her eyes, messy hair, a ratty Dallas Cowboys jersey and gray sweats. Optimus would--

--not care.

Twenty minutes later, just as the Ibuprofen kicked in, air brakes hissed outside. Then Optimus' hologram materialized just inside her door like...like a knight in shining blue armor. He didn't bat a metal eyelid at her bedraggled appearance.

"Oh!" Mikaela leapt back.

"My apologies," Optimus said, "I'm still getting accustomed to projecting over distances. Forgive me if my hologram cuts out."

"It's fine." She gestured to the couch, "Let's sit over there."

Optimus' expression brightened. "Ah...sitcoms usually feature these things." He walked over, seated himself on one end and stretched his legs across the seat. His very _long_ legs, which took up almost all of the available sitting room. He regarded her with a smile, "Am I correct in assuming this is the proper way to 'chillax?'"

Mikaela shook her head, resisting a rude snicker. Optimus spread out on her couch like he belonged there--and how _normal_ he looked doing so--she almost wanted to take a photo with her phone and send it to Sam.

"Um...yeah, you got it right," she said, easing to sit by his feet.

Once she plopped down, Optimus moved his legs and sat up properly. The sparkling amusement in his optics trickled slowly into seriousness. "You've read my email...what are your thoughts?"

His question hung like smoke in the air. Mikaela clasped his hands and sucked in a deep breath. "I'm going to tell you something I never told anybody...not my mom, dad, Sam...nobody. You'll be the first."

Optimus' pupils flickered. He was focused completely on her.

"When I was ten, I snuck into a public pool after it closed so I could swim without other people getting in my way. Well, I got a cramp and..." she made a sinking gesture, "Drowning is nothing like the movies where somebody splashes around. I couldn't yell for help. I just...sank."

She felt him squeeze her fingertips in empathy, urging her to continue.

"I--don't remember passing out. Just...one second I couldn't breathe and the next, it's like I was standing on the high dive. I saw myself lying at the bottom of the pool. My life flashed in front of my eyes. Then I watched one of the neighbors pull me out and start CPR. The ambulance pulled up and I got zapped into this...dark, warm place. It looked like a freeway tunnel with a bright light shining at one end." Mikaela stopped and trembled at the memory, a piece of her past so clear it could have happened yesterday.

Optimus' optics blinked rapidly. The blue tabs above his eyes--they were part of his helm, but acted like eyebrows--tilted upwards. He leaned forward, face to face, "Did you feel anything? Emotions?"

"Yeah," Mikaela nodded eagerly. "Yeah, I did! I felt so--_loved_--when I saw the light. I ran to it...I jumped in...and right when I jumped I got this jerking feeling. It was like--" she grabbed the sides of his head and pushed it backwards, "--somebody did that to me. Except from behind. I flipped over onto my back and suddenly I was looking at four doctors leaning over me. I died, Optimus. I had no heartbeat for over five minutes and the doctors brought me back." She held his gaze, "We--humans--call these visions 'near-death experiences.' Some think it's just the brain misfiring as it dies. Others...like me...believe we really went somewhere."

Something in his face flickered. A rare fragility that wasn't even there when the virus left him helpless on the warehouse floor.

"I was without a Spark. I...died...temporarily." He let his forearm rest on the back of the couch and faced her fully, "I want to believe, but I have no proof. I've scanned my memory banks over and over. My processors record _everything_ when I am online. I can even tell you how long I was active just by observing the file size."

"Faith isn't enough?"

The glow in his eyes dimmed "I wish it was, Mikaela. It was the most fantastic thing I've ever experienced and I everything my mind is tells me it was real. I _remember_ it--and there is no file telling me it happened. I don't know what to believe. Though..." He managed a smile, "...it's wonderful knowing I'm not alone in this--oddity."

Mikaela's heart broke for him. She saw how badly he wanted to believe, yet his machine reasoning stood like a roadblock between him and faith. Fate dealt him a cruel blow--the ability to imagine while holding him bound to logic.

"I never used to think beyond my own life," Optimus went on coolly. "Now--I fear all that I've worked for will fade when I die. If there is nothing...what is the point in existing in the first place when everything I've done has the potential to unravel once I'm gone?"

Yet another bit of himself he'd never reveal to his own men. This was the frightened, doubting, grieving and desperately screaming mech hiding somewhere amidst Optimus and his role as Prime.

"'Try and penetrate with our limited means the secrets of nature and you will find that, behind all the discernible concatenations, there remains something subtle, intangible and inexplicable.' I believe a human you call 'Einstein' said this." Optimus chuckled, the sound slightly bitter. "And he is correct."

Never in her life had the urge to scream hit Mikaela so hard. Her fingertips literally burned to grab his ear finials and yell at him that something did happen to him. It was so bleeding obvious...and he wouldn't see it! Was he actually incapable or just refusing?

"For what it's worth, Optimus..." She shifted where she sat as the couch cushion felt suddenly warmer than usual. "I think you saw more than just electricity."

He cracked a casual, alien smile that made his optics squint and shimmer. "I'm glad someone does. At least--" his gaze shifted downwards and the smile melted, "Mikaela, you're bleeding!"

"Huh?" she stood up, saw the bloodstain on her sweats and found herself wishing the couch would swallow her whole. "Ah, crap!"

"Do you need medical assistance?"

"No!" Mikaela's face had to be redder than the bone pillow behind Optimus' elbow. "Be right back!"

She bolted into the bathroom adjacent to her bedroom without waiting for his answer. This had to be one of the most mortifying moments of her life. She wouldn't blame Optimus one bit if he beat a hasty retreat while she cowered on the toilet. For a moment she sat still and merely listened. He was walking around--she could hear the click-tap-hiss of his footsteps on the hardwood floor. The sound grew louder. Then came the soft clank of his fingertips knocking on the door.

"I'm sorry if I embarrassed you," he muffled through the barrier between them. "I...did not anticipate the amount of blood."

"No, I freaked. I'm sorry I screamed at you." The burning in her face receded. "I hope I didn't gross you out."

"I do not possess a stomach--therefore, I can not experience nausea." His voice had a smile behind it, "Why do you consider your menstrual cycle so embarrassing?"

An innocent question. He could search the internet for the answers if he really wanted to. Sometimes, she got the feeling he liked hearing her slant on things.

"Well, um..." Mikaela chucked the practically useless tampon into the toilet and stole one of her mom's maxi pads. "It's part of sex, Optimus. I guess women on their periods are less appealing because, on a carnal level, it tells the men they aren't fertile and not worth having sex with." She could _not_ believe she just said that. As much as she told herself Optimus was technically genderless, she couldn't stop thinking of him as a guy. He sounded and acted like everything that made a man a _man_...except he didn't ogle her breasts or butt and didn't whistle rudely when she walked by, a huge plus in her opinion.

He was every woman's _dream_ and he wasn't even _male_.

Mikaela almost giggled out loud.

"I'm coming out."

Optimus was right there when she opened the door. She smiled up at him and leaned on the doorframe.

"Welcome to my boudoir," she said, trying and failing to imitate a French accent, "You like?"

"_Oui_," Optimus replied.

Mikaela almost forgot he learned Earth's languages on the internet. He was probably fluent in all of them. "You could totally flirt with anybody like that, you know. Just speak a little French and people will melt."

His optics took on a decidedly mischievous gleam. He cocked his head and spoke as if he'd spent his lifetime in Paris, "_Fait-il chaud ici, ou c'est juste vous?_"

Mikaela nearly hit the floor. Good Lord, he made French sound downright sensual.

"Translation," Optimus all but smirked, "Is it hot in here, or is it just you?"

"You suck." Mikaela grinned and excused herself to change into more decent clothing. Even though Optimus didn't care, she was still embarrassed to be seen wearing rags. She emerged from the bathroom properly groomed and dressed in clean shorts and a tank top. Looking better helped her feel a little better.

Optimus was bent over her nightstand, her father's framed picture cradled in his left hand. He faced her when she turned off the bathroom light. Above his head--whiter than before--hung the moon. It outlined his profile in the relative darkness settling over her bedroom. He looked...silver...and his optics were two sapphires peering at her. They were only four feet apart, but the distance felt like miles. The curtains swished and slid briefly across his back and Mikaela felt intense jealousy towards the cheap fabric. Almost a symbol of time itself, it merely bounced off his armored form like diaphanous fingers, its path changed while he stood undisturbed in the middle.

Then he set the photo down and switched the bedside lamp on, unintentionally spoiling the illusion.

"You look like your father."

"Thanks," she said right before flopping down on the bed. _God...he's in my bedroom_...

Optimus joined her. Sort of--she had to move over and he put his arm around her, creating room for her to lay against his side.

"When I was little...I always used to love huge trucks. I'd always jack my arm so they'd honk their horns. Sometimes my dad and I went to truck shows together just to look at all the big rigs." Blinking, she reached under her mattress for the photo she always kept hidden there for luck. It depicted her five year old self, complete with pigtails and a lacy pink sundress, sitting in the driver's seat of a huge red and white cab-over. "I wasn't exactly a girly girl as a kid."

He grasped the photo by its lower right corner. The pillow rustled as he turned his head to look at her. "Is this why I remind you of your father?"

"Yeah...yeah, it is."

She felt him touch her hair ever so gently. In a voice equally soft, he replied, "Then I am extremely honored."

"Most wouldn't say that." Mikaela sighed. She took the photograph when he offered it back and returned it to its hiding place. "I just hope his parole works out. He might get out in a year instead of five. Now here's hoping he doesn't get the asshole judge."

"I wish him luck."

Mikaela sat up and peered at Optimus. She nearly laughed--he looked so comfortable laying there on her bed with his eyelids closed. His armor even matched her bedspread!

"Hey, did they have movies on Cybertron?"

Optimus' eyes opened to meet hers. "No." Now he was the culture teacher and she the student. "Nothing beyond archived historical footage, anyway."

"Hm. How about we watch one of my movies?" Mikaela leaned towards him, "I think I know exactly which one to pull out."

"I'd enjoy that, Mikaela. Name the title and I can download--"

"Nope. We're going in the living room to watch this the old fashioned way--with a VCR." She eyed her old, beat up thirteen inch TV set with disdain. The only VCR and DVD players in the house resided in the living room. "My dad used to say 'sometimes things lose their charm when they're done up with a bunch of bells and whistles.'"

"I know what you mean." Optimus said, folding his hands on his stomach. "I think I'll just...beam myself into the living room. I had difficulty keeping my hologram solid when I entered the hallway."

"Sure."

Mikaela stood up. Optimus simply vanished off her bed, leaving an imprint on the bedspread and pillows. There and gone like a dream. She shook her head and padded into the living room. There he was, spread out on the couch again.

"I think I like leather," he mused, running his hand over the backing. Mikaela almost choked on her spit while trying not to picture him wearing leather straps across his chest. She busied herself with pushing buttons on the VCR so the naughty thought wouldn't take root in her psyche.

Just before she started the film, Optimus sat up and looked suddenly alarmed. "Wait!"

Mikaela froze. Was her hair on fire? Did rats start hatching from her nostrils? Were tentacles growing out of her ears? "What?"

"You're missing the key element to every movie experience."

It didn't click. "Huh?"

He looked her square in the eyes, dead serious, and uttered a single word.

"Popcorn."

.o

Optimus surprised Mikaela. She expected him to ask question after question about everything in the film--or point out the scientific inaccuracies. Instead, he was absolutely silent, his eyes glued to the screen in rapt attention. She could almost hear his motherboards digesting the plots and themes. The only time he moved during the entire movie was to put his arm around her. She let him draw her against his chest and tried not to think about the decision she still hadn't made.

Mikaela swallowed the last kernel of microwavable popcorn right before the credits rolled. She smiled up at Optimus, "So, what'cha think?"

He blinked twice and focused on her. "I--found myself identifying immensely with Ellie towards the end. Particularly her speech after she returned from her journey. I get the feeling you're trying to tell me something, Mikaela. Very clever," he closed one optic in a wink. "I...will think about this."

Sighing, Mikaela reached up and lightly rested her palm on the cool hand he'd settled on her shoulder. Twenty four hours ago, that same hand was trembling, barely clinging to life. She pressed her cheek to his right chest plate. Its warmth seeped into her skin. Flashes of how he looked and sounded at the height of overload flickered against her closed eyelids.

"Dammit, why can't I be happy without make choices?"

"Mikaela?"

He'd understand. He _always_ understood her...

"I'm trapped between my mind and my heart." She forced herself to lock eyes with him, "You and Sam, Optimus. I don't _want_ to choose. No matter what I do, I hurt people. Maybe I'm not cut out for love."

"Nonsense," he frowned, "You're a very loving young woman."

Beautiful words that tugged the bitterness choking her heart.

"I can't have you both," she whispered. "You're both awesome in different ways."

"Choose Sam," Optimus said without hesitation. "When you're ready, choose Sam."

"That simple?"

He blinked and it was so silent she heard the clicks of his eyelids. It hurt him to say what he said next, but he bore it bravely. "I will always be here, Mikaela, but I can't give you everything you want in life. Marriage, children...are beyond my capabilities. You--deserve--the honor of hearing a man say 'I do' in matrimony and seeing child you brought into the world grow up. I can not grant you those."

"But you're the only person I feel safe opening up to," she admitted, averting her gaze to her hands. Butter from the popcorn left her fingertips shiny. She wiped her hands across her thighs. "I feel like I can tell you anything. I thought love was being open and sharing."

"It is. And no rules say you can't speak to me when you feel the need."

"I _love_ you," Mikaela whispered, "and I _love_ Sam..."

"And I...I love _you_ enough to take your hand and lead you towards the person you should be loving. I can't be that person. Sam _can_." Optimus fixed her in a loving, but serious gaze teeming with wisdom and experience. "You fear that giving all of yourself will frighten him away. If Sam truly cares about you, Mikaela, he will accept you just as easily as I do. You shouldn't have to change who you are to please someone else."

Upon hearing those words, Mikaela's progesterone and estrogen-deprived brain played havoc on her emotions. Her heart sent blood roaring through her ears. Every nerve in her body surged and drew back like puckering lips after tasting a lemon. Coldness crept into her veins while stinging salt welled in the corners of her eyes. She was falling inside. Optimus' words were true and she knew it...but that didn't cushion the hard blow of reality slamming into her back.

"But..." Speaking felt like breathing through sand, "...I don't think he understands me."

"You need to give him a chance. Let him in the way you let me in." Optimus smiled at her, "I've observed his behavior around you. He may be just as afraid as you are. Going first will encourage him to open up as well. Perhaps you could start by admitting you like music from the eighties. See what happens...he might respond by revealing one of his own idiosyncrasies."

Mikaela dragged herself out from under the turmoil threatening to bury her alive. She leaned against Optimus, needing his support to hold her steady. "My feelings for you won't just go away."

"They don't have to. Simply..." He cupped the back of her head, "...redirect them. Energy changes, it does not disappear. Love is _energy_."

She clasped his hand when it slid around to brush the tears from her cheek. "You'll be--"

"Mikaela," he touched his mouth plates to her lips, "I know what love is. I have memories. You? You're _making_ those memories right _now_."

Every syllable rang true. It was like taking awful-tasting medicine--she didn't want to swallow the truth, but doing so would benefit her in the long run. Optimus knew all along she struggled over this decision. He had the maturity, experience and insight to make the choice a million times easier by being the one to step back--to resign from this internal competition playing out in her mind.

Still, it _hurt_.

Optimus was incredibly strong to take this invisible, intangible pain and still remain standing.

"I may be partly to blame for everything. I encouraged you because I, too desperately needed someone. You helped me open up a part of myself I feared I'd never offer up again." He tilted his head, still smiling even though his eyes were sad. They were sad when she first met him and she knew now it was the echoing glow of Megatron's long road to destiny. Once, she overheard him telling Bumblebee that he thought destroying himself with the Cube would lift its effects and allow Megatron to regain his long-lost purity. But, in the end, it sounded like Megatron _did_ receive the cleansing he needed. Optimus simply couldn't see that because logic blinded his faith.

She nodded her head, unable to speak.

"I'm not telling you to stop loving me. I won't stop loving you. Still..." He read her like a book. Hooking a curled finger under her chin, he slowly tipped her face up until their eyes locked and said, "I've had five _eons_ to love. You only have forty to fifty _years_, not counting your childhood, and even with the best medical care your life is still so short compared to mine. It's a precious time, Mikaela. _Cherish_ it."

Mikaela laid her hand flat on the hinged piece of armor protecting his Spark chamber. It was always warm. To think she almost witnessed that light, that warmth, disappearing forever. The glow of his Spark reminded her of the tunnel, the love and the light she saw the night she almost drowned. And, once again, she had to leave it.

Could her life get anymore ironic?

"I guess there's never balance, is there?" she sighed.

"What do you mean?"

"Life is either too long or too short. It's never just the right length."

That smile again, brief and shimmering. "Relativity."

His dorky humor shook a brief laugh from the emotional debris littering her innards. She took her hand off his chest and traced the groove running down the center of his nose. The way his optics blinked and crossed to follow her action made her smile. She stopped when her finger came to rest on his mouth plates. "We can still have our talks, right?"

"Of course," Optimus said against her fingertip, "But I want you to tell Sam the same things you tell me."

"I will," Mikaela replied. She didn't know if this was the last time she'd touch him this way or not, so she kept her fingertip on his mouth a little longer. "Mind if I still sit in your cab to do homework?"

He chuckled, a soft, gentle rumbling sound, "You're always welcome to sit in my cab, Mikaela."

The ache in her throat became the small, compact sting of resolve. She moved her hand back to his chest. "It's a safe feeling, you know--knowing you'll always be there. I can't say that about many people in my life."

Optimus' optics lidded slightly. They were moist, like dewy car windows early in the morning. "I'm honored," he said. She knew, in some small fashion, he was already missing her. She would be old and die in seemingly no time to him while he remained ageless. Still, no matter what, he'd be _there_, and that promise was all that mattered in the end.

Mikaela finally convinced herself that lifting her hands off his chest wouldn't make him cease to exist. Their love wasn't disappearing...it merely changed. Like energy.

"I should go..." Optimus' joints clicked and hissed as he eased himself onto his feet. Even in barely any light he somehow found ways to shimmer like fine china. "Thank you for the movie. I thoroughly enjoyed it."

She ducked her head, smiling a little while her dark hair covered her face. "Should I walk you out?"

A chuckle. "That won't be necessary, but thanks anyway."

He embraced her.

"Don't forget. Talk to Sam," his voice rumbled in her ear.

"I will."

They locked eyes again and she touched her lips to his mouth. One last, long kiss before she had to let him go. He responded with a tickling static shock.

"Mm," he cupped her cheek, "I will miss your kiss."

"Me, too."

He leaned over until their foreheads touched. "It's going to be all right."

Mikaela wished she could believe that. Logically she knew she would--just not now. Not when the wound was still raw and bleeding. She held Optimus' hands until his hologram faded. The emptiness of his absence threatened to consume her. She rushed into her bedroom and stood by the window, which granted her an unobstructed view of Optimus parked across her driveway. The curtains bumped into her, not the least bit deterred by her presence in their path. She couldn't command them the way he did.

The Peterbilt pulled away into the night. When it turned the corner, Mikaela looked over at the Optimus-shaped print still marking her bedspread and found it within herself to smile. The mark on her bed was destined to fade, but that was all right with her--the imprint he left on her heart would stay forever.

.o

"It was so nice of your mom to invite me over for dinner. I could live off her meatloaf." Mikaela said to Sam.

A week had passed since she last spoke to Optimus. Her period caused her to miss a lot of school. Sam called every other day to check in. Optimus didn't call her, but she saw him drive by a few times. Then Sam phoned with a dinner invitation that she found impossible to refuse. It was the perfect opportunity to put Optimus' words into action. Which was why they were now sitting on Sam's bed, looking at his Junior High yearbook.

"I like it too. Okay..." Sam grinned, "You sure you want to see this?"

"Yeah."

He flipped the book open to expose his photo. Thirteen year old Sam Witwicky had braces, the freckles that faded with time covered his face like sesame seeds and he wore his hair spiked up in a way that looked utterly ridiculous on someone that blond.

Mikaela dissolved into snickers. "Wow." She could remember seeing that photo before she knew Sam. At the time she considered him the weirdest kid--not someone she could ever like. Times sure changed.

"I thought I looked so cool." Sam made a face and laughed. The braces did a good job of making his teeth pretty.

"I used to wonder who that dorky kid was, but other than that I hardly noticed your picture." She winced upon admitting it. Sam didn't seem at all bothered, flipping instead to the B's. Her own photo was a bit cleaner--though in it she wore a blouse with a ruffled collar she hated. Even at thirteen she had sad eyes.

Sam blushed. He'd circled her picture. "Yours is a million times better than mine."

Mikaela lightly slapped him on the arm. "At least you got over it. I've seen seniors dressed like that. Ugh." She bit her lip and tried to screw down the courage to speak to him like she did Optimus. "I remember the eighties dance we had last year."

"Oh, yeah? I--saw you there."

"Yeah?" Sighing, she gripped a handful of his bedspread and blurted out, "I like eighties ballads."

Sam's eyes grew. "You serious?"

__

Oh, damn... "Mmhmm..."

He started to laugh. Not jeering laughter, more--surprised. He bent over to reach under his bed and pulled out a small shoebox of CD's. She watched him shuffle through until he pulled one out. _Monster Ballads_. "This is one of my dirty little secrets. My dad doesn't even know I have this. Miles doesn't even know. 'Bee does, but I told him he better not play it with anybody else in the car or I'd take a sander to his paint job."

Mikaela laughed and silently wondered if she somehow dreamed this moment. Optimus...was right. And it was so _easy_. "Sometimes I even look up old cartoons on Youtube, just for kicks. You know..._Scooby Doo_...and _Ninja Turtles_."

"_Ruh-roh!_" Sam said in a perfect imitation of Scooby's voice.

"Cowabunga!" Mikaela giggled and gave his head a little shove. Then she pulled him close and kissed him. The soft warmth of his silky lips surrounded her like a protective blanket. "Guess we can't be mature all the time, can we?"

He breathed heavily, "Guess not."

Things might have escalated had Sam's mother not interrupted with a shout, "Who's up for dessert?"

Sam rolled his eyes and palmed his forehead, "Damn. Uh...rain check?" He peeked out from under his pinkie.

Mikaela smiled softly and sat up

.o

It was after dark. Bumblebee needed to report to Optimus--no real news, but the Autobots liked to stay informed about the happenings around Sam and Mikaela's homes. Sam made an excuse to go for a drive with Mikaela and they were off.

"Hey, Bumblebee! How was the car wash?"

Bumblebee's engine revved. "Most enjoyable."

Sam's face turned tomato red. "He kept playing the deli scene from _When Harry Met Sally_. People stared. A lot."

Mikaela guffawed until her sides hurt.

Ten minutes later, Mikaela and Sam got to witness the Autobots enjoying a rare evening of downtime. Mikaela giggled when Bumblebee played hip hop music started break dancing in the grassy field behind the warehouse. His moves shook the ground. Air chairs, freezes, six steps and even the worm. Sam and Mikaela almost died laughing--seeing a giant yellow robot do the worm...a very _good_ worm at that--was too funny for words. Optimus and the others came outside to investigate the commotion. They stood in a circle on the grass, watching.

Bumblebee put on quite a show.

"Jazz was better, though," he said between six-steps.

Ratchet almost blew a gasket. "You're gonna blow out a joint doing that!"

"As if!" Bumblebee retorted, haughtily pulling another air chair just to spite the angry CMO a little more.

Mikaela's heart ached at the sight of Optimus in the evening glow. Or was it because of Sam's arm around wrapped warmly around her shoulders? Optimus looked her way with that little smile of his and the swelling heat rose into her throat. It was for the best. She knew that. Now if somebody would only explain that fact to her heart.

"All noise," Ironhide groaned to Ratchet. "How can humans call those noises comprehensible? How can Bumblebee?"

"I believe the core is rhythm," Ratchet replied. "Which is something you seriously lack."

Ironhide gave him a light shove. It only looked violent--he was actually smiling. "The only music I know consists of two things. Explosions and you overloading."

Ratchet cast his bond mate an amused sidelong look. "Perhaps I can make more of this music for you a bit later."

"You're on. Now if the dancing fool out there would just turn off that noise..."

Neither of them noticed Optimus very, very slightly tapping his foot to the music. "Ironhide, Ratchet," he smiled over at them both, "Music and dance are a means of self expression."

"I don't see _you_ out there making a fool of yourself," groused the weapons specialist, his face scrunched in a sneer.

Optimus and Mikaela caught each others' eye. His gaze had fire behind it. He was always a leader by example--practicing what he preached.

"Really? Let's remedy that, shall we? Mikaela, may I borrow you a moment?"

Smiling, Optimus boxed himself into truck mode and his hologram appeared. Sam jumped back, startled at the sight of the Autobot leader standing before him at only six and a half feet tall.

"Whoa!"

"Showoff," muttered Ironhide.

Optimus' radio clicked on as Mikaela grasped his hand. She instantly recognized the glittery piano as Journey. He drew her close and began moving to the rhythm, his joints hissing and clicking each time he shifted his weight. Their eyes locked together. It was a secret goodbye--a slow, achingly difficult goodbye nobody in the area knew they were saying.

__

"Highway run  
into the midnight sun.  
Wheels go 'round and 'round.  
You're on my mind..."

Mikaela blinked so the lump in her throat wouldn't become tears. She didn't notice the others watching in shocked silence. Not because they were together--the Autobots and Sam just couldn't believe Optimus knew how to _dance_.

"It's all right," whispered Optimus, "You'll be fine. I know you will."

She eased closer and laid her cheek against his warm chest plate. He rubbed her back, his fingertips gently thrumming the strings of emotion pulled painfully taut around her heart. Time stood still while his chrome body moved against her skin. She heard him quietly singing along with the song. No, not singing along, singing it _to_ her.

Mikaela let herself remember everything. Their first dance, their long talks, the things she told him and everything he ever said to her. Those things didn't have to stop--but they were still saying goodbye. To what, she wasn't exactly sure. It still hurt.

For the millionth time she feared he'd disappear if removed her hands from the back of his neck.

"Optimus..."

Optimus stopped singing and held her tighter. This wasn't any easier for him--

"Shh," he smiled, though his optics were dewy, "It's the right thing."

--but his wonderful goodbye showed her that love sometimes meant letting go.

__

"...and being apart ain't easy  
on this love affair..."

Then he twirled her gently towards Sam, who quickly caught on and picked up where Optimus left off. Sam was shorter than Optimus' hologram. Mikaela stood cheek to cheek with him. Their bodies swayed in unison while the piano and vocals issued from Optimus' speakers. She felt Sam's heart thudding behind his sternum. A fleshy, human chest and skin that gave when she pressed against it. His hands rubbed soothingly across her back while the tears she held back spilled out all over his shoulder.

"I...really like you a lot," he stammered against her hair, "Um...uh, I-I mean, I...uh...I--"

Mikaela giggled hoarsely, "I know, Sam. I know..."

__

"...two strangers learn  
to fall in love again..."

She leaned back to find him grinning like a fool. God, he was so cute. "Stop being so nervous. I'm not going anywhere."

Sam relaxed in her arms. His movements became graceful, looser, less restrained. Mikaela saw his feelings for her reflected in the city lights dancing across his eyes. She glimpsed Optimus watching them through the corner of her eye. He was smiling. Sadness shone in his optics. Not regret, just sadness. Even if it was for the best, stopping their relationship had to hurt him as much, if not worse than it hurt her. He'd handed her off to someone capable of easing the pain in her heart, but what about his Spark? How many times would he have to sacrifice his own happiness for others?

What if her happiness was his?

Mikaela chewed on her bottom lip. She whispered, "Sam?"

"Hm?"

"Do you ever have nightmares about Mission City?"

His breath shuddered in her ear. "I did a lot right after. Still do...sometimes. Megatron was right on my ass. He wanted that Cube. And--" he frowned, "I almost got filleted by a helicopter propeller. I thought I was gonna die out there."

"Me, too." She blinked back another wave of tears. "Bumblebee and I drove back into that mess and took out the tank."

"'Bee told me about that. He said you became his combat brother that day--" Sam chuckled, "'til I corrected him and said girls are sisters."

Mikaela grinned, meeting Sam's eyes. "He is kinda like a big brother." She let her gaze flit briefly to Bumblebee, who watched them through curious optics. "And he's cute to boot."

"Cute? Ahh...um, must be a girl thing."

She made a face at him right before she laid her cheek on his shoulder and closed her eyes. His hands drew her closer. Her fingertips traced the velvety hair on the back of his head and neck. He smelled salty and warm like a spring afternoon. She brushed a finger across his cheek--but where she once felt cool chrome, she now felt warm, slightly stubbly flesh and moist lips as soft as silk.

"I can't believe I never noticed you." Mikaela whispered in his ear.

He grinned into her cheek and replied, "S'okay. I noticed you."

"I'm glad."

Their lips met softly.

"Say um..." Sam half-smiled, "there's a cheesy monster movie playing in that dumpy little theater behind the school. Wanna go see it?"

Heat threaded its way through Mikaela's cheeks. She laid her head on Sam's shoulder again and gazed at Optimus in the darkness. "Yeah. But we have to get popcorn. It's not a movie without popcorn, you know."

"You're on. I'll buy it for ya."

Mikaela's heart shivered. "Thanks."

Optimus nodded and his hologram slowly faded to reveal the rising moon.

__

"...I'm forever yours--  
La-dee-da...  
Faithfully!"

.o

One hour later...

"It's getting late. Mikaela, you coming?"

Ratchet emerged from the back of the warehouse. "Mikaela, can I talk to you for a moment?"

Two questions fired at once. Mikaela answered Sam first, "Just a minute--yeah, Ratchet?"

Ratchet motioned for her to follow him into the relative privacy of outside. His face was serious. Her innards froze. Oh, God, something had to be seriously wrong for him to _quietly_ request speaking to her in private.

"Uh, sure." Mikaela gave Sam's hand a nervous squeeze and released it. The first time she'd let go of it in the hour following their dance, she realized. "Be right back, okay?"

"No problem. Bumblebee isn't going anywhere."

Bumblebee's speakers emitted a razzing sound. Sam laughed and slapped the windshield.

Mikaela walked out into the crisp evening air. Ratchet knelt to her level and slowly blinked his optics. "I have information I thought I'd share with you."

"Oh?"

"While you and Sam were engaged in courtship behaviors, I ran a full scan of Optimus. It seemed normal until I came to his Spark."

The blood drained from her face. "Is he okay?"

"Oh! He's fine!" the medic rolled his eyes, "But getting jumped fragged his circuits up a bit. I found a file sitting in his Spark. The creation timestamp says seventeen-fifty four...or five-fifty four in the afternoon. The darn thing was so fragmented that I had to run a debugging program just to put the data back together. Then I found out the stupid thing is so heavily encrypted that I doubt even the best hacker can crack it."

Mikaela's eyebrows knit. "The virus?"

He frowned, "I'm not sure what it is. It's three megabytes long--compressed of course. That's equal to roughly three hours of conscious activity."

"That _is_ pretty weird."

"Yes, especially since his Spark went out five seconds before the listed timestamp."

She felt her heart skip a beat.

Ratchet leaned closer. "Mikaela, are you all right? Your heart rate just increased drastically."

"I'm...I'm fine. Ratchet, go tell Optimus what you just told me." Mikaela struggled to contain the elation bubbling like carbonation in the pit of her stomach. "He needs to know."

Ratchet didn't appear to see the importance of his discovery. In fact Mikaela was sure he just humored her when he transformed and rolled up to Optimus. She wished she could be there, sitting in his cab when Ratchet delivered the news. At the same time she had a feeling Optimus would want to be by himself with it for awhile.

And she didn't have to worry about him because she knew, now, that he'd be _okay_ alone.

A casual arm draped around her shoulders. Flesh, not chrome, but just as warm. "What's up?"

"It's a long story." She leaned into Sam's half-hug. A brilliant new future sparkled into existence the moment she met his eyes. "How about I tell you on the way home?"


End file.
